


The Sacrilegious Life of the Just Inquisitor Teiran Lavellan

by DAIinquisitorLavellan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon, Character Development, Closing Rifts Around Thedas, Daily Life for Thedas, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Early Days of the Inquisition, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Lavellan/Solas Fluff, M/M, Original Character(s), POV Cassandra Pentaghast, POV Lavellan, POV Multiple, POV Solas, Slow Burn, Solavellan, no au, the slowest of slow burns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2018-10-06 00:52:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 43,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10321778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DAIinquisitorLavellan/pseuds/DAIinquisitorLavellan
Summary: In my first playthrough, my Inquisitor was drinking to excess with Iron Bull after killing that first Dragon and I was excited to see what the Inquisitor would do when drunk and how each companion would react.  I imagined Josephine and Cassandra’s fury as they scraped the poor elf off the floor with Sera’s laughter following them back to Skyhold.Then, nothing happened.  My Lavellan stood there, perfectly sober.  And I just couldn’t accept it apparently.Ever since then, I’ve been obsessed with filling in the holes that my mind imagines.So here is my Lavellan's story, though I very much like to think all the characters have been faithfully expanded upon.





	1. The Conclave

**Author's Note:**

> The title is still a work in progress so it may change, but I know that's a big change so I will try to keep it to a minimum.
> 
> Teiran looks up at the title: "It's too long."
> 
> Me: "Yes, I know. But look it captures your main criticism and your main virtue."
> 
> Teiran: "Too long."
> 
> Me: Sigh. "I'm working on it."
> 
> More of Teiran's Dragon Age World can be found on Tumblr (I write there too) if any reader becomes impatient and wants to skip ahead chronologically. (@teiranlavellan)

Waking as the first true rays of sunlight broke through her tent, Teiran grumpily began packing her camp.  Sighing, she chewed on a quick breakfast of jerky and a hard biscuit. Being up this early was never her idea. However, she couldn’t sleep any longer without being late. Looking up at the sky, she figured they should be reaching the Temple soon. Teiran tied her hair in a high bun and heaved her daypack, bow and quiver onto her back.

She stowed the rest of her camping supplies in a high tree. She would return for them after the council ended. Rationally, it might be a good idea to leave her weapons there too—after all she was never completely helpless—but she indulged in the illusion of safety they provided. Staff in hand, she picked her way through the snow, avoiding the main road and traveling up towards the mountain’s summit.

After an hour of snow crunching underfoot, the sound of a large number of people gathered in one place reached her ears. She paused. Teiran scanned the area looking for the hollow in the tree she had scouted out the day before.

" _Ah ha. There you are_ ," she thought at the tree near the shaded ledge of a huge boulder. Walking towards the hollow tree, the voices greatly increased in volume, the tension in those voices plain.

Teiran stowed her pack and bow then took her staff in both hands. She ran her hands over the worn and nicked wood fondly, tracing the faded pattern. Taking a silent, deep breath, she took a leather cord out of her pocket and threw one half over the nearest branch.

Holding her staff against the branch, she twisted the leather cord around them both, securing it with a knot at both ends. Teiran stood back and surveyed her belongings with her hands on her hips while she listened to the strained voices.

Teiran crouched down and moved towards the snow-covered ledge. The voices were decidedly divided. Teiran’s sharp, elven eyes bounced between the Templars, Chantry priests and mages waiting outside the Temple of Sacred Ashes: a gleaming boulder of armor on one side and a flowing river of robes on the other with a red and white wall separating them.

The elf settled in to wait, ears straining to make out individual words in the nervous babble. After several tense minutes, the doors to the temple opened.  The wall of priests parted sparingly to allow the feuding factions to enter simultaneously while retaining the buffer of red and white robes.

Teiran anxiously eyed the disappearing crowd while throwing glances at her planned route down from her ledge to the Temple. When the last of the Templars, mages and priests had clearly turned their attention to their long-awaited turn to walk into the Temple, Teiran rose and left her ledge.

The sound of the large temple doors closing reverberated in the air as Teiran smoothed her servants’ outfit. She already missed the familiar feel of her travel-worn light armor. Completing her descent to the Temple, she swiftly approached the back of the Temple where the handfuls of mage and Templar guards were greatly outnumbered by the swirling mass of elven servants. The large number of elves moving rapidly from place to place with near-silent footfalls contrasting the clanging of pots and pans and shouting kitchen staff.

Teiran blended with the other elven servants, following their lead into and through the Temple’s back entrance. She grabbed a silver tray of beverages and snacks from the kitchens before slipping into the quiet line of elves streaming into the Temples' carnivorous main room. Teiran painted a small, blank smile on her face, keeping her gaze trained on the rough stone floor and her steps light.

Upon crossing the threshold of the main room, the elves divided into two lines to glide behind each side of the long rectangular table where the feuding factions sat. Ironically, Teiran ended up on the Templar rather than the mage side of the table.

Following the lead of the servants on either side of her, she placed the contents of her tray in front of the Templars nearest her. Keeping in step, Teiran moved away from the chairs to the back of the room, standing in line while the debate continued. Teiran spent the morning attempting to memorize anything that seemed significant, wearing her blank and deaf smile while periodically replenishing drink and food.

“Both sides have suffered and both are responsible for this year of chaos!” The Divine’s voice rose above the bickering, silencing them. “The mages did vote to dissolve the Circle of Magi, but the Templar Order had abandoned their duties in protecting them with the restrictions they put in place after the unfortunate events in Kirkwall. And I must ask you,” the Divine looked over at the Templar side of the table, “What other choice did they have?”

The majority of the mage’s side of the table agreed loudly, fists pounding the tables making the spirits ripple inside their goblets.

The Divine turned on them, “And after a thousand years in which the Templars’ sole purpose was to be the keeper of mages, could they do little else but try to shepherd their lost charges back to the safety of the Circles?”

A mage broke the brief silence, “We are not going to be locked up again, Most Holy. We are through with our Templar overlords” At this, half of the mages roared in approval while the other half remained silent and stone-faced.

A Templar rose from her chair, “I suppose we are conveniently forgetting about all the Templars slain at the White Spire! The Chantry in Kirkwall obliterated! What proof do you have that mages can control themselves without the Templars?” The Templars responded with raised voices and grim expressions of agreement.

The argument dragged on without resolution until the sun was high, heating the room to an uncomfortable degree. The servants padded back into the kitchen to retrieve a proper meal.

Before Teiran could pick up her new tray of food and drink, a Templar corralled her and a few other elves, motioning outside while instructing them to fetch some fresh water from the nearby river. Teiran grasped the pail being shoved in her direction and followed the small group leaving the Temple.

Once out of earshot, if not sight, the elves in the small group broke into a subtle but energetic flurry of conversations, seeming to continue rather than begin their gossip.  Teiran listened intently, knowing that this could be just as vital as what she gleaned from the debate table. However, besides the impression that the debates were not going to be successful despite the evident passion for a peaceful resolution radiating from the Divine, Teiran did not seem to be learning more than idle gossip.

She bent down to search the wet ground for a sharp rock to break the sheet of ice over the river when an explosion rent the air, knocking her and the other servants off their feet. An ear-piercing barrage of green light enveloped the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Teiran recovered her feet and instinctively moved closer to what her eyes were already trying to make sense of. She kept her eyes trained on the disturbance at the Temple while still perceiving her surroundings: the servant’s heavy footfalls were fleeing in all directions, the light poured from the Temple windows and the faint sound of screaming metal and voices reached her elf-sensitive ears.

Simultaneously questioning her sanity but also knowing that she would regret never discovering the source of the disturbance, she ran back to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

Stepping cautiously through the servant's entrance in the back of the Temple, she realized the green light was no longer pouring from the main room of the Temple. Glancing quickly about the kitchen, she noticed the armored guards were now nothing more than scattered corpses drowning in blood or mounds of burnt flesh. And the servants and kitchen staff had simply vanished.

Teiran moved to the closed door separating the kitchen hallway from the main room. She pressed her ear to the door, but couldn't hear properly. She frowned and considered going out and around to one of the giant windows that showed the main room when she heard a voice saturated with authority, "Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice."

The elf jumped at the clear sound of the ominous voice. " _Uh oh. Sacrifice?_ " She thought, frozen with indecision, _“I am no match to whatever killed all the guards so quickly. What should I do? What can I do?”_

"Keep the sacrifice still." The voice resonated with the command even though the volume remained even and conversational.

Teiran's breath quickened and sweat dampened her palms as she scowled at the thick door. _"Running out of time."_  

"Someone! Help me!!" A familiar voice cried out.

Teiran's scowl changed to surprise. She recognized the voice of the Chantry advocate for peace that had so frequently called for resolution and understanding during the debate. The Divine was the sacrifice.

She clenched her hands into fists, sparks of lightening magic crackling between her fingers, _"No more time to come up with a better plan."_ She pushed the door open.

In the room stood a tall figure with a glowing orb in its hand held out towards the Divine who was suspended midair to match its great height. Red bands of magic encircled the Divine's arms holding her close to the green magic emitting from the orb in the towering creature's hand.

Hands flaring with magic, Teiran entered demanding, "What is going on here?!"

Divine Justinia and the creature were not alone, Teiran soon discovered, eyes tracing the red magic holding the Divine aloft to a group of Grey Warden mages circled around the Divine.

The Wardens and the creature turned to stare at her. The creature’s gaze bored and fleeting while the Grey Wardens stared with glassy rage.

Teiran plotted her attack, turning her focus to the Wardens first. The small group was close enough for her lightening magic to bounce between them although she felt the creature would be the greatest threat.

Before either side could attack, the Divine jerked, taking advantage of her captors' distraction. The green magic was still writhing along the surface of the sphere as it flew from the creature’s hands, through the air and in Teiran's direction. Instinctively, Teiran darted to her left to catch the orb.

The tall creature advanced murderously upon the elf, following the orb that had escaped his clawed grasp.

As she reached out with her left hand, Teiran hoped this orb would help her survive this encounter. Her fingers closed around the orb and chaos ensued.

Pain obliterated all thought. Her torment originated from the orb. It seemed to weld itself to the bones in her left hand.  Magic crackled through the air. Electric-green magic and the swirling dark clouds of unconsciousness dominated Teiran’s senses.  The ground shifted under her feet and changed from the level floor of the temple to something irregular and brittle. Teiran abruptly lost her fight against the agony and pull of unconsciousness as they enveloped her.


	2. The Spymasters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into Pre-Herald life at Haven for the Advisors with Solas arriving on the scene.

A messenger knocked, pushing the door open without waiting for a response. The young human man paused uncertainly, glancing between the four imposing people gathered around a solid table strewn with maps and scraps of parchment. Cullen Rutherford, Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, Leliana and Lady Josephine Montilyet all turned to face the interruption. Cassandra’s voice was cut-off mid-sentence. 

Cullen looked up at the messenger, "Yes?"

Flustered, the messenger floundered, not knowing whom to address first.

"Speak." Cassandra commanded.

The messenger bobbed his head shakily and spoke to Cullen while glancing around at the other three.

"An apostate is at our gates. Asking for permission to enter. Claims to know about the Breach. And the Fade. But Ser, he's an elf Ser, and I wasn't sure if we should let him into Haven ser." The messenger shifted from foot to foot under the four stone-like gazes that met his words.

Leliana broke the silence with a quiet but sharp command: "Send my agents to nearby villages to verify his story as well as his whereabouts when the Temple was attacked." 

Cassandra barked, "Keep him under guard in the training area until we can speak with him."

The messenger began to salute in farewell when Josephine spoke, "What is the elf's name?"

The messenger straightened, pausing in his salute, he answered, "Solas, ser."  Then the messenger placed his arm across his chest with his fist resting under his right shoulder. His accompanying bow became awkward when he bowed to Cullen, then—feeling as if he may have possibly offended the other three—he proceeded to bow to Cassandra, then Josephine and then Leliana individually.

As soon as the door closed behind the messenger, the four relaxed and returned to their natural poses. Cullen leaned over the map-strewn table, muttering "Maker's breath..."

Cassandra sighed, "This is getting ridiculous. We should establish the Inquisition so the soldiers know who to report to."

Josephine had already resumed writing by the light of the candle melted to the top of her clipboard as she chimed, "First, we must prove ourselves able to deal with the Breach. To say nothing of the demons and smaller rifts as well."

Leliana looked up from the stone floor without moving a single other muscle; "She should be arriving from the Temple by sunset."

Cassandra stiffened and stared determinedly at Leliana. Josephine read the glance between the two grieving, former hands of the Divine before respectively averting her gaze. Cullen straightened and rested his hands on top of his sword handle without taking his eyes off the maps.

"Perhaps this Solas will have a way to deal with the Breach. For now, we should see if he has any useful information." Only at the end of his statement did Cullen look up from the maps and turn to Cassandra.

"Leliana can interrogate the apostate." Cassandra declared, assured in Leliana’s response.

Leliana dipped her head in consent and watched the Seeker escape through the door.

Cullen placed a hand behind his neck, staring at the ink and paper on the table.

Josephine continued scribbling under her candle as she deftly moved towards the door without looking up.

Cassandra strode out of the Chapel and then out of Haven completely to the training yard amidst the tents surrounding the village. She unsheathed her sword and swung at the nearest dummy, leaving a scratch in the wooden sphere that represented its head.

Taking her one-handed sword in two hands, Cassandra reared back and struck the dummy without reserve, throwing all her considerable strength into each swing. The area filled with the sound of metal sailing through the air and ending abruptly with creak of wood. The dummy wilted, an arm drooping towards the ground from a bent spine.

Splinters floated to the ground, Cassandra paused, heaving from the power and emotion exerted rather than the number of swings. She threw her sword back into her scabbard and huffed impatiently up at the sun traveling westward.

Varric, who had been watching the scene from Haven’s gate with laughing eyes, deemed the situation safe enough to venture closer. Already deciding on adjectives, such as foaming at the mouth, as an apt way to describe Seeker Pentaghast.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Solas faced the frozen lake with his hands clasped behind his back, seeming rooted to the spot and lost in thought. His serene gaze was in direct contrast to the stern guards behind him and the wooden pikes surrounding Haven that loomed over all of them. The elf was the shortest of the humans—if only barely in some cases—but with them fanning out behind him combined with his authoritative stance, he could haven been mistaken as their leader. That is, if it were not a laughable thought for an elf to be a leader amongst humans.

The doors to Haven opened, revealing the setting sun and Leliana stalking towards them with an agent at her side holding scrolls of parchment. The guards stood a little straighter and took a steadying breath as the Nightingale approached.

Solas' gaze never wavered from the frozen lake stretched out before him and the peaceful, distant thoughts that occupied his mind as the sun set.

When the shrouded woman and her aide reached them, Solas turned around slowly to face Haven and Leliana.

Leliana's sharp eyes flickered to Solas' staff in the hands of a guard and then back to the elf, "So, you claim to have information that could seal the Breach?"

Solas smiled lightly, "I have studied the Fade extensively. And the Breach, as you call it, is a tear in the Veil that separates this world from the Fade. I may be able to discover a way to repair the Veil before this world is consumed by it. If you would allow me to study the mortal who passed physically through the Fade."

In one swift motion, Leliana folded her arms and tilted her head speculatively. "You seem to know a lot about the Breach. How do I know you didn't cause it yourself?"

Solas' expression never wavered, "Regardless of whether I did or not, you will need my aid in sealing it. There are few who have as much knowledge of the Fade and the Veil as I do. And as I said, the world will be consumed by if it continues to grow. Which is something I should like to avoid." 

Leliana's eyes flashed with a hint of amusement, but the guard's expressions stiffened. “I suppose that the situation would demand acceptance of your aid regardless of the cause," she admitted.

“Although if you wish to study our prisoner, we would have to trust you with her life. She is the only one who survived and has yet to regain consciousness to reveal what happened.” She paused dramatically, “As well as trust you to provide a solution rather than ensuring the growth of the Breach of course."

He wore a very cat-like grin, "Then fear not. I did not create this Breach as I'm sure your scrolls can attest to."

"They can. You were seen elsewhere at the time of the Breach's creation. Yet this only hints at your innocence and garners no trust.” Leliana looked over at the scrolls in the aids’ hands. "Perhaps my agents could find more? Care to point them in the right direction?"

Solas folded his arms behind his back and shifted his weight, "I was born in a small village that would be unworthy of note on any map you posses. Would its name gain me your trust once your spies have located it? We have little time to repair the Veil and I am eager to begin."

“It would be a start . . .” she replied.

Solas' smile became a very innocent and helpful one.


	3. To the Dungeon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas enters Haven and meets Cullen and Teiran (unconscious of course); Pre-waking up at Haven to be interrogated by the Left and Right Hands of the Divine.

Leliana gave a quick nod and turned sharply to the guard holding Solas' staff. The guard promptly handed the humble staff back to its owner.

Solas accepted it and looked back to Leliana.

A hand to her chin and her mind racing, Leliana spoke quietly, “The information you have provided should further our understanding of the Breach greatly. I thank you for willingly offering your assistance," she glanced at her agent, who was scribbling furiously on one of the scrolls, preserving Solas' expertise concerning matters of the Fade.

Leliana had been asking him question after question while the sun sank lower in the sky. And Solas had smiled helpfully, divulging a great deal of basic information and personal theories. Earning an initial trust, supervisory admittance into Haven and his request: access to the prisoner.

“There is a smaller rift not far from here. Speak to Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast about traveling safely up to the rift to study it after you observe the prisoner's hand. We'll hear your theories on how to close the Breach in the morning." And with that Leliana turned back for Haven with her agent and all the guards except three, who remained at Solas' side.

Solas held his staff in both hands and leaned on it while watching the procession back into Haven, his face unreadable.  He pressed his forehead to the bottom of the cold metal design wrapped around the top of his staff and closed his gray eyes for a long moment. The darkening sky turned a shade closer to violet when the elf pried his eyes open and positioned the staff to his side. Solas finally crossed the distance from the training yard to Haven’s entry gate with his guards clanking on either side of him.

Once the elven mage and his guards reached the top of the steps into Haven’s interior, Cullen hailed them.

Solas observed his guards out of the corner of his eye as they saluted the approaching blonde warrior, noting the respectful gesture. Cullen nodded to his men, then turned to Solas. 

"Leliana briefed me on your arrangement," Cullen said. "Maker's breath, I hope you can make sense of all this nonsense." He continued as he frowned at the glowing, green hole in the sky.

Solas smiled amiably, "I suppose I am now your resident expert on magical nonsense so I shall do my best not to disappoint."

Cullen eyed Solas, for a moment unsure whether the mage was jesting or not, and then laughed. "Let's get to it then. The prisoner is in the dungeon. No doubt you and Leliana saw her being carried in. She's been unconscious since Andraste handed her out of the Fade." Cullen explained, leading Solas through Haven and down into the Chantry’s dungeon.

In the dungeon, a guard already stood at each corner of the small room, forcing Solas' guards to make a triangle within the square dungeon with a lone figure as the focal point.

Cullen watched Solas, waiting for what he knew would come. The prisoner was lying unconscious on the rough stone floor, her body curled into the fetal position but with her left arm stretched away from her.  A moment of silence passed.

Then the dungeon erupted. The electric crackling echoed deafeningly around the bare stone floor and walls. All eyes turned to its origin: the flash of green magic emanating from the survivor's palm.  Solas' guards jumped, but Cullen and the dungeon’s guards were clearly habituated to the event.

Cullen turned to Solas; surprised he did not flinch, but satisfied in seeing shock in the elf's passive face.

Solas' shock quickly turned to furious, calculating thought as he observed the mortal before him. Without waiting for anyone to recover or give him leave, Solas approached the prisoner, bending over her left hand. He turned it this way and that, absorbed.

Cullen waved off the trio of guards who had begun to advance on the oblivious elf. Clearing his throat the Commander asked, "Anything yet?"

Solas' eyes blazed against his aloof expression. Solas answered slowly, annunciating each word, "I have never seen such a mark. This is most fascinating."

"Do you think she will wake up?" Cullen asked. 

"After passing physically through the Fade? I am uncertain." Solas answered distractedly.

Cullen fell silent and Solas settled himself on the floor to study the mark. 

Cullen watched the elf, attributing the intensity with which Solas meditated to sympathies for the prisoner being a member of the same race. With a swell of respect for the honor in those sympathies, Cullen quietly left the dungeon. 

Solas heard the door close at the top of the staircase; Cullen was gone. Solas held his face in his hands and heaved a heavy, self-loathing sigh, " _This is what I deserve. How had this all gone astray?! Could this be . . .? An anchor? In the hands of a mortal child of this world?! My orb. . . ."_ he ranted inwardly. Solas' fury scalded as he glared hatefully down at the prone elf's left hand.

Then, he carefully composed his face, turning to look at each of the seven guards who were all studiously ignoring him. His gaze returned to the elf, _“I must contain it somehow. Keep it from killing her. Then try it out on a rift. I have to be absolutely certain that it is indeed. . .”_ He gnashed his teeth together at where this course of action would lead.

 _"This is unbearable!! I have to resort to manipulating this Dalish—_ clearly a word meant as an insult _—to interact with my Veil. Fenedhis! This world."_ The lines of venom in Solas’ face lit menacingly beneath the green magic flashing from her palm.

 _"I cannot fathom HOW she could have ended up with an anchor? Was Corypheus so incompetent that it was stolen from him?!_ (He mentally shied away from the thought of theft) _And where is my Foci?! Was Corypheus still alive? If so, did he still have it after she took it...”_ Solas forced himself to relax and recompose himself after this deluge of hatred towards the unconscious elf.

 _"Focus. To discover what happened to the orb is reason enough to heal her."_ Solas derailed his anger, letting it subside and his detached focus return. Solas bent over the prisoner’s hand and passed his own hand over it. Closing his eyes in concentration, Solas stabilized the magic.


	4. Dinner for Solas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra and Varric meet Solas in Haven's dungeon.

Carrying a plate of steaming food in each hand through the hall, Varric stopped expectantly in front of the dungeon door.

Cassandra, berating and tailing him, rolled her eyes as she opened the door for him to step through.

"Much obliged Seeker." Varric said cheerfully, continuing down into the dungeon.

When Cassandra and Varric reached the bottom of the dungeon, they discovered Solas sitting beside the unconscious elf's left hand with his eyes closed in concentration and his hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

Their steps echoed off the walls until they came to a stop. The five remaining guards snapped their heels in attention; Cassandra nodded in recognition.

"So, do you know what the mark is?" Cassandra asked, her clear voice cutting through the thick silence.

Solas hadn't looked up at their arrival, but now he seemed to be slowly becoming more alert. He thawed and straightened his posture, opening his distant, grey eyes and meeting the Seeker’s gaze. Cassandra crossed her arms impatiently.

"I do not yet know...." Solas replied vaguely.

"Hmph. Some expert on the Fade." Cassandra scoffed.

Solas chuckled and stood, "I have searched the Fade for answers, however the Breach seems to be complicating matters."

Cassandra bristled at the lack of information. Varric laughed, "Well, take a break Chuckles! Maybe it'll come to you with a little food." The dwarf said, holding out one of the brimming plates.

Elevating his eyebrows to a surprised slant at the acquired nickname, Solas walked over to Varric. "You are most kind, Child of Stone." Solas accepted the plate of food, bringing it back to his meditative corner of the dungeon.

Varric laughed, a short burst of breath, "The name's Varric, Chuckles."

Solas gazed levelly at him, amusement curling his frowning lips upward, "Very well then, Varric."

Sighing exasperatedly at the exchanged pleasantries, Cassandra strode out onto the square floor, standing over the prisoner with her hands on her hip.

Varric sat down on the last step of the dungeon’s staircase and scooped a pile of vitals into his mouth. Solas ripped his bread in half and then into smaller pieces before popping one piece into his mouth all the while staring thoughtfully at the floor.

Cassandra stared down at the mess of silvery white hair that partially covered Teiran's face and shoulders. Cassandra’s glare snapped up and directly over to Solas, "When will she be able to talk?"

Solas chewed and swallowed before meeting Cassandra's sharp gaze. "Passing physically through the Fade is not something someone is guaranteed to survive."

Clenching her jaw, Cassandra was about to retort when Solas added, "Although I suspect you will have your answers soon."

Cassandra folded her arms and narrowed her gaze at Solas who resumed eating. As if to lend credence to Solas' estimation, the familiar green magic flashed at Cassandra's feet. Cassandra jumped at the accompanying sound of a sharp intake of breath from the unconscious elf.

Shield in hand, ready to block, Cassandra prepared to defend herself against any possible attack from the prisoner. However, the elf remained prone on the other side of the Seeker’s shield.

Solas finished swallowing before glancing at the still unconscious elf, "The Dalish reacts to the mark now; I believe this may indicate survival. However, it will kill her." Solas frowned and broke eye contact with Cassandra.

"If the tear in the Veil cannot be sealed soon; it will consume the Dalish and the rest of this world.  It is already growing. I have done my best to heal her and reduce the speed of the mark's growth. However . . ." Solas looked back at the anchor.

Varric sent a low whistle bouncing off the stone walls. Cassandra swung her shield across her back, straightening out of her defensive posture. 

"And how do we close the Breach exactly?" Cassandra's voice sounded bored, but her fierce expression betrayed her.

Solas looked back to Cassandra, "Am I to assume you are Seeker Pentaghast?"

Varric's laughter reverberated richly around the dank dungeon, "See Seeker! This is what happens when you go around demanding answers without introductions first."

Solas continued nonchalantly, "Leliana informed me of a small rift nearby. If I could study it safely I may be able to discover more."

"Humph.  And I suppose you want us to escort you there?" Cassandra retorted.

"Only if it is no trouble."

"You are asking for quite a lot when you claim to still not know how to close the Breach. As an expert in these things shouldn't you have a theory by now?"

Solas smiled pleasantly, "I have several theories, in fact. Which is why I will need to study the rift. Together with the mark, if possible."

The mark flared again and this time Teiran's hand twitched in response. Unhurriedly, Solas rose and crossed the dungeon to sit by the mark. His hand glowed green as he healed her and strengthened the small ward around the mark.

Cassandra ground her teeth, "If you are lying to me apostate, I will have you executed on the spot. Do I make myself clear?"

Solas never looked up from his work, "Perfectly, Seeker Pentaghast."

Satisfied, Cassandra’s mind moved on to the next task. She looked over to the staircase leading out of the dungeon. "We will leave at dawn for the rift. I'll send word to your guards. Meet outside the gates." Cassandra spoke, already moving towards the stairs.

Varric stood, half-eaten plate full of food in hand, "That's awful early Seeker. Why don't we leave after-"

" _You_ can leave whenever you want Varric. I have given you permission to do so." Cassandra interrupted him without pausing in her assent out of the dungeon.

Varric winked at Solas and then turned to follow her, "And that was extremely generous of you Seeker. However now that you've dragged me all the way out here-"

Their voices were cut off by the sound of the dungeon door closing. Solas was once again alone with his thoughts. He breathed a sigh of relief.


	5. Places Everyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Varric head for the rift and Cassandra heads for the dungeon. Just everyone getting to know each other which in itself is difficult besides all the grief and fear of the Conclave and Breach.
> 
> Cassandra's POV is very short, but she is very direct so it was longer, but my naturally rambling style doesn't fit her mind. It took awhile to get it to sound right.
> 
> Up next is the opening of the game: the dungeon with Cassandra and Leliana.

 The next morning, Lieutenant Scarlett Gayles entered the mute dungeon. Glancing at her fellow comrades then at the white-haired elf in the middle of the room. Continuing her scan until she found the bald elf sitting with his head leaning back against the wall nearest the stairs.

Solas was clearly, deeply asleep.

The Lieutenant gestured to three of the guards, walking briskly over to the sleeping elf. The trio of guards obediently formed a solid line behind her. Lieutenant Gayles shook Solas' shoulder, "Ser?" She questioned firmly before taking a step back.

Solas remained unresponsive, appearing not to have heard her.

Lieutenant Gayles frowned, "Ser?" She repeated her question, although it sounded more like a command this time.

Solas reluctantly began to wake, unhurriedly moving off the wall.

"Ser. It is dawn." Lieutenant Gayles prompted.

Solas nodded once and stood, eyes still half-lidded.

Lieutenant Gayles turned on her heel and headed for the staircase but paused to shout back, "Bring him to the gate, understood?"

The trio of guards saluted her with their fists solemnly crossed over their chests. As soon as the Lieutenant reached the top of the staircase, the guards drew close to Solas, subtly herding him out of the dungeon.

However, the elf stretched and yawned obliviously. Striding over to the prisoner, Solas sleepily healed the Dalish elf and strengthened the ward around the anchor.

The anchor flashed silently while he worked, the sound captured by the ward. Solas noted that the magic had grown to envelope her entire hand when it flashed and her whole body jerked in response to the flare. As soon as Solas was satisfied that his task was complete, he swiftly climbed the staircase out of the dungeon.

After a brief stint outside the dungeon, Solas exited Haven with his armored escorts, finding himself surrounded by a desperate flurry of activity. Templars, scouts and guards were in a constant nervous flux with some returning warily to Haven and others marching forth carrying supplies. Those who returned to Haven were in distinctly smaller and battered groups than the ones marching out, Solas noticed grimly.

His knowing eyes moved from those around him to the sky. It was almost impossible to look away from the steadily expanding gaping hole. Solas was not the only one who constantly glanced up at it, although his posture was among one of the calmest.

Solas watched the massive boulders spinning in midair between the earth and the sky. He felt it an appropriate metaphor for their situation: hovering between being devoured by the Breach and solid ground. Lost in thought with his eyes tracing each green meteor that landed, spewing demons upon impact, Solas was suddenly distracted by a carefree sound. 

Varric laughed with the guards surrounding him, his short frame somehow emitting a more voluminous timbre than the rest. Solas solemnly approached the small group with his own wing of guards fanning out and joining the other guards. The elf and dwarf stood in the heart of an oval composed of evenly spaced pieces of shining metal.

"You finally made it Chuckles!" Varric welcomed.

Solas folded his arms and with a small smile said, "Please excuse my tardiness Varric. After spending the night in the dungeon, I needed a moment before we set out."

Varric grunted in understanding, but before he could respond Cassandra strode into view.

She joined the circle of metal and became the undisputed head of group, "Good. You're all here. The rift is that way." She pointed out a path carved out of the snow that ended at huge double doors in the distance.

The group began to turn towards the path when Solas spoke, "Seeker Pentaghast, in regards to the Dalish, I believe she will be able to join us at the rift under her own power."

"Thank you. I will escort the prisoner to the rift after I discover what happened at the Conclave." Cassandra demeanor changed and her dark gaze turned downward as she cracked her knuckles seriously.

Solas stiffened but reasoned that his ideas, if they were to be expressed, would go unheeded.

Varric broke the silence. "Go easy on her Seeker. Not like when you were interrogating me.” Varric turned to Solas, “Did I tell you how she plunged a knife into my very heart?"

Cassandra looked back to Varric and her expression transformed as the dwarf spoke. She was completely taken back by his accusation. This distracted her from her task of discovering what happened to the Divine and she softened unintentionally, "I did no such thing!"

Varric turned back to her wearing a look of indignant surprise, "Oh, don't you remember Seeker? You put my book—my best-selling novel—in my lap and stabbed it right in front of me."

Cassandra rolled her eyes and made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat, "If you would like me to demonstrate the difference between stabbing you in the heart and stabbing a book then—"

Varric interrupted with a wave of his hand and a guffaw. "Alright Seeker, my apologies.”

Solas looked between the two, noting the ease with which Varric had eradicated the deadly look in Cassandra's eyes.

"We'll see you later Seeker. Come on Chuckles, let's head out." Varric waved once, spun on his heel and smoothly began down the path towards the rift.

Solas and the guards turned with the burly dwarf and the party left Cassandra. 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

Cassandra passed through the gates and re-entered Haven as her grief attempted to tangle her thoughts. She managed her emotions and pushed them aside automatically, there was work to be done.

Cassandra mentally flitted through the tasks she needed to complete: supplies need to be sent to the forward camp, Quartermaster Threnn's long list of requisition orders, High Chancellor Roderick's meddling and who among Cullen's Templars could be trusted to deal with such sensitive issues. She shook her head at the thought of tiptoeing around the pompous bureaucrat, _“Could they really afford to lose the Chantry's support?”_

She strode through Haven, seeing reminders for all these tasks in her surroundings, rather than the people and the buildings becoming brighter as the sun continued its climb into the sky. The warrior sighed as she reached the Chantry's doors. Her thoughts shifted to the elf in the dungeon.

Cassandra's grief turned to rage when she thought of the Conclave's sole survivor. Her right fist clenched around the pommel at her side, “ _She has to be responsible. It is too convenient for her to be the only one who walked away from the explosion and not also be the cause.”_

Cassandra pounded the double doors open and strode down the long corridor until she turned for the door to the dungeon.

Leliana appeared, resembling a statue come to life, she fluidly moved from leaning against the wall to stand steadfastly in front of Cassandra.

The two women gazed at each other a moment, seeing their own grief and sympathy for the other's grief mirrored silently in the their eyes.

Cassandra broke the moment, shaking her head as she replaced her steel mask. She sidestepped Leliana and burst through the dungeon door.

Leliana turned and became a silent shadow to Cassandra's pounding footsteps announcing their approach.


	6. Interrogating the Conscious Elf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're finally leaving the dungeon in Haven and heading for the Frostback Mountains. Huzzah!
> 
> A conscious elf being interrogated by the grief-stricken former Hands of the Divine. Oh, and everyone is really worried that the world is going to end. And Teiran is concerned about her hand. 
> 
> Teiran: "I'm concerned about the rest of the world too, but what the hell happened to my hand???" 
> 
> Me: "Shhhh, Teiran. It'll work out in the end." Kinda.

Teiran dropped to her knees and began sifting through the massive snow bank in front of her. Her hands moved numbly in the cold; a sense of hopelessness sending her heart racing. She dug deep gouges into the mound.

"Ah!" Teiran breathed in pain, looking down at her left hand clasped around an icicle. She flexed to release it, but it was frozen to her hand. Alarmed, she pulled at the icicle as an intense cold burned her left palm.

However, as soon as Teiran began to panic, the pain subsided. She sighed in relief as she massaged her left hand with her right quizzically.

Her eyes returned to the perfectly smooth hill of untouched white snow before her. She felt an inexplicable urge to continue her search when a thought crossed her mind, _“What had she been searching for?”_

Teiran's head rolled to the side as her eyes opened. Looking around, she struggled to take in her surroundings: the dim light of torches and the smooth metal that glinted in it were her first impressions.

" _What? Where?"_ She willed her eyes to adjust; desperate for enough knowledge to judge whether she was in danger.

Abruptly, Teiran experienced a cool sensation on her palm, as if she were holding metal that had been outside all night in the cool air. She focused on her left hand, trying to bring it up to her face, but something limited her movements.

Thick, iron manacles weighed her wrists and the rough stone floor registered in her view from her kneeling position. When her mind put the disconnected perceptions of her environment together, an assessment of her situation clicked. Adrenaline stirred her blood.

The cool sensation on her left hand intensified to a sharp, glacial burn and a flash of green light. Teiran flinched away from the bright light, gasping at the unexpected feeling of a hole in her hand being stretched wide. The light receded and Teiran anxiously looked down at her hand, flexing it experimentally. Her hand was clearly whole.

A large, wooden door opened and slammed against the wall. Footsteps approached Teiran. And two women entered the dungeon. The guards smartly sheathed the swords they had leveled at their prisoner.

Teiran stared up at them, assessing the two women. The one with the white and black design on her armor approached her first. Teiran scrutinized her quickly, “ _Aggressive. Livid. Sad?_ " The woman began to circle her. 

Teiran had been so focused on the woman orbiting her at such close proximity that she had almost forgotten the other woman. Now, the woman shrouded by her lavender hood stepped into the light, her eyes as piercing as the other woman's had been angry. The elf focused on her now.

Then the other one leaned in close, “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now!” Teiran flinched, the intense words ringing in her tapered ears.

Without stopping for an answer, the woman continued to pivot around her captive, "The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead."

Teiran listened intently; her sharp ears did not miss the grief behind the vehement words when the woman finished with, "Except for you."  The furious woman ceased her pacing and looked down at her.

It was the first time Teiran had been able to see her clearly. This human had a deep scar along her cheek and her dark hair was short and spiky with a braid crowning her head.

As Teiran noted her most striking features, she confirmed her suspicions about the woman’s emotional state. Teiran understood the look. Apparently, in this woman, loss inspired a need for revenge and subsequently a target for such feelings. Instinctively, Teiran knew she needed to remain silent and not give this woman any reason to decide an elf would be the perfect target for her grief.

So, Teiran put away her questions, she doubted this woman was in any mood to answer them even if she could be trusted to answer honestly. As for her own feelings about the loss of so many lives, showing those might reveal enough weakness to label her as a an easy target.

 _“I know what not to say, but what did that leave for me to say?”_ In a flash of black and white, the woman reached for her left arm, interrupting Teiran's thoughts.

Smoothly lifting the heavy iron manacles, she raised Teiran's hand up to her face and demanded, "Explain this." 

As if on cue, Teiran's hand went from cool to painfully cold as it exploded. Teiran flinched against the frozen, void-like sensation. The woman threw her arm back onto the floor where it sunk heavily, dragging the other hand in tow.

Teiran stared resolutely at the floor, determined not to present any vulnerability. The feeling that a gaping hole in her palm was steadily growing larger passed as soon as the light faded. However, the panic over her predicament had finally set in, _"What has happened to me? To my hand? Why am being interrogated? None of this makes any sense!"_

"I-I-I can't." Teiran managed to choke out past her panic. She looked up at her interrogator. Her heart raced as her own baffled words broke her grasp on her levelheaded, logical approach to her situation.

Teiran knew she had faltered and was past caring that she had when the human pounced, "What do you mean you can't?!"

She watched the other, silent woman begin to encircle her. The livid one paced in front of her. Trapped _._

 _"Would it matter if she was innocent or guilty of whatever had happened to all those people at the Conclave?"_ Teiran contemplated fearfully. 

Suddenly she felt it all came out in an overwhelmed, defensive jumble, "I don't know what that is! Or how it got there!" Teiran decided that the truth was all she had to offer and she hoped it would be enough. 

The dark woman’s face contorted into a grimace, her pacing stopped and she grabbed Teiran's shoulders, her face close to hers. "You're lying!!" She yelled, her grief fueling her anger to the breaking point. Her hand flew back to punch the elf.

Teiran moved to block the blow when she felt the pressure of the woman's other hand leave her shoulder.

Surprised, Teiran looked up and saw the hooded woman move between them, "We need her, Cassandra." The hooded woman said firmly but sympathetically.

 _"Friends?"_ Teiran analyzed as this new information distracted her momentarily.

The two women stood in the doorway watching her; Cassandra's withering gaze never left Teiran, who stared plainly back. The silent human turned around to stare down at Teiran.

 _"Maybe she will believe me?"_ Teiran hoped.

She ghosted towards the elf as Teiran spoke, "I don't understand." She looked into the starkly pale face beneath the purple cloth, trying to convey how confused and lost she felt. However, she saw no softening or anything to give her hope in the woman's demeanor.

“What is your name?” She asked quietly as if to coax the answer out of her, exaggerating the contrast between her and Cassandra’s interrogation techniques.

Teiran wasn’t fooled, but also decided to answer, “Teirantala. Clan Lavellan.” It was a gamble to use her real clan name. It could lead to their persecution if this ended badly for her, but she couldn’t resist the idea that word might reach them of her fate. And, she rationalized; they were already passively pursued for simply being Dalish.

The human's voice resounded sharply before quieting this time, "Do you remember what happened? How this began?"

Cassandra slowly resumed her pacing next to the elf.

Teiran frowned, looked right and then down, trying to recall what happened before she found herself imprisoned here. Her white hair, matted and dirty, was coming loose from its typical high bun and brushed against her face as she did so.

She deliberately avoided thinking about her greasy hair and the dried sweat stiffening her clothes. Instead, she immersed herself in the only memory she had: the feeling of a brittle, uneven floor under her feet.

“I remember . . . running.” Teiran heard herself saying. She summoned up a fragment of a memory: she was running against swirls of fog. Shapes congealed on all sides. The sounds of ominous clicking making her heart skip a beat.

“Things were chasing me, and then . . . a woman?” She continued dubiously. An image of a figure wearing the Chantry’s headdress flashed across her mind. The figure glowed so brightly that only its silhouette was visible.

She was completely absorbed in her brief recollections and was startled when the reserved woman asked, “A woman?”

Cassandra looked from the back of Teiran’s head to Leliana’s face, searching for her reaction. How would the former Chantry sister react to this mention of the rumor that the prisoner had been saved from the blast at the Temple by Andraste herself? _“Did the elf overhear the rumor from someone else or was this truly her recollection of the events?”_ However, Cassandra could only read an intensity in Leliana’s face that Teiran was clearly too absorbed to notice.

Leliana crossed her arms skeptically, but Teiran’s mind was far from the dungeon, “She reached out to me, but then . . .”

Just as suddenly as they had been recalled, her memories faltered. Teiran continued to stare willfully at the stone floor. She strained to remember more, but the dungeon and her current situation was all her mind would conjure up.

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana.” Cassandra moved from behind Teiran to Leliana’s side.

Leliana backed away from Teiran, but her scrutinizing eyes never left the elf. She searched her face for a hint of deceit. _“Could she have heard what people are saying about her being saved by Andraste? Was she playing us?”_ Leliana thought.

Cassandra guided Leliana towards the open door leading out of the dank dungeon; “I will take her to the rift.”

Leliana pulled her gaze away from Teiran, who was still staring at the floor, and gave a slight nod to Cassandra. Leliana turned and left the dungeon.

Cassandra turned back to the elf and bent down to unlock the thick, iron manacles around Teiran’s wrists and replace them with rope.

Teiran stared up at the warrior and saw that her emotions were completely under control. It was almost like she was a different person or perhaps Teiran’s hopes were simply soaring as the weight of the iron dropped away.

“What _did_ happen?” Teiran asked, showing her genuine concern.

Cassandra considered her, the honest empathy and curiosity showing through the elf’s eyes and slipping under Cassandra’s guard.

The Seeker helped Teiran to her feet. She wobbled as the blood rushed to her toes _. “How long have I been sitting there?”_ Teiran wondered.

Cassandra tied the last knot on her new restraints saying, “It . . . will be easier to show you.” She turned her back on Teiran, marching out of the dungeon with the elf trailing her.

A rush of light followed the creak of a heavy wooden door being opened. Teiran shielded her eyes, but she peaked around her hand, impatient to discover where she had been taken and what Cassandra had promised to show her.

Teiran eagerly scanned the rooftops of a small village and the fir trees all covered with snow. _“So,”_ she thought, _“still up in the Frostback Mountains. It doesn’t look like they took me very far from_ — _”_

The roar of thunder spilling across the sky halted Teiran’s evaluation of her environment.

She automatically turned away from the painful sound, but immediately looked up, expecting to see ominous dark clouds blanketing the sky. She took a few more steps into the light before faltering, stunned. There were indeed clouds across the sky, but they rippled with green light. Teiran scanned the sky and it didn’t take long to find the source: a swirling tornado of clouds, massive rocks and emerald-colored magic stretching from behind the mountains into the air.

“We call it ‘The Breach;’ It is a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour.” Cassandra, her back turned on the stunned elf, explained calmly from a short distance. Teiran pulled her wide-eyed stare from the Breach to the Seeker’s shield, peering through the snowflakes drifting between them.

Cassandra turned to face Teiran, “It’s not the only such rift; Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”

“An explosion can do that?” Teiran questioned, absentmindedly rubbing her cold left hand.

“This one did.” Cassandra confirmed, watching her for signs of deceit. “Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

“Wh-” Teiran’s question was drowned out by the sharp crash of lightning emitting from the Breach. Both women fell silent as they marveled at the raw magical power.

“AAAHHH!” Teiran screamed as her hand erupted in verdant light with an answering crack. She clenched her fist, cradling her hand in a visceral attempt to keep the void in her palm from widening. She fell to her knees.

When the pain subsided and the light was only a flicker tracing her veins, she observed that her hand was still physically whole. _“What kind of magic is this?”_ She panicked internally.  

Cassandra knelt beside her, “Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads…. and it is killing you.”

Teiran detected a note of sympathy in her voice and looked up at Cassandra. _“It’s killing me?”_ she thought disbelievingly.

Even though her words were foreboding, Teiran stared unafraid into Cassandra’s intense gaze. Teiran could see the source of her intensity: hope. _“She has a plan . . . There must be a way to keep it from killing me . . .”_ Teiran realized.

The Seeker continued hurriedly, “It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”

“How could it stop this?” Teiran shot back as the Breach spewed out another demon far in the distance.

“It may be the key to closing the Breach. Whether that’s possible or not is something we shall discover shortly.” Cassandra answered impatiently, thinly veiling her eagerness to begin. “It is our only chance, however. And yours.” She warned.

“You still think I did this? To myself!” Teiran reacted angrily.

Cassandra overlooked her anger and calmly retorted, “Not intentionally. Something _clearly_ went wrong.”

“I am not responsible.” Teiran spoke through clenched teeth.

“Someone is. And you are our only suspect.” Cassandra explained. “You wish to prove your innocence? This”—Cassandra pointed to her hand—“is the only way.”

 _“So, it’s my way or nothing huh?”_ Teiran thought. _“Well, rationally, I don’t actually have a choice here. Either I help or they’ll hang me or I wait for the Breach to cover the world in demons. Since I want to live, clear my name and would prefer everyone else in the world didn’t die . . .”_

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and then she committed herself, “I understand.”

Surprise and a touch of admiration lit Cassandra’s face, “Then . . .?”

“I’ll do what I can.” She elaborated, her voice saturated with the weight of her promise.

Cassandra stared, seeing nothing but determination in her steady gaze. The Seeker rose and moved close to the Dalish elf, gripping the back of her servant’s garb to help her stand. Cassandra waited for her to get to her feet, Teiran moving unsteadily due to her restraints, when the two found themselves face-to-face.

Cassandra watched Teiran’s gaze run speculatively over her face, trace both scars down her cheeks, before meeting her eyes. _“Let’s see if she’s as good as her word.”_ Cassandra thought, leading Teiran down the path and towards the center of Haven.

The snowflakes swirled around them as they marched on the empty dirt road. However, they were not alone as they passed through the small village: on either side of the road were soldiers and villagers pointing at Teiran as they approached.

Teiran paused and started to balk at the sight of so many agitated humans, but noted with relief that they seemed content to remain out of Cassandra’s way.

Cassandra coolly continued as if they were not making their way through a tense scene, but addressed the situation with commentary, “They have decided your guilt. They need it.”

One soldier crossed her arms and stared at Teiran. Another tapped the person next to them to break their conversation and point out the elf walking by them.

“The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy. Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers.” Cassandra’s grief attempted to choke her when she spoke the Divine’s name, but she swallowed and managed to finish her sentence evenly.

Cassandra met the gazes of the people around her, warning them. They passed through Haven’s gates without incident and she pulled Teiran down the path to the right, away from Haven. A short way down the path, Cassandra veered towards a small house off the main path. She pulled Teiran with her.

“The Conclave was a chance for peace between mages and Templars. She brought their leaders together. Now they are dead.” Cassandra’s voice swelled with her respect for the late Divine and her peaceful endeavor. “We lash out, like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves. As she did. Until the Breach is sealed.”

Teiran felt a surge of remorse for Cassandra’s grief and for the loss of a leader willing to act to end the hostilities between mages and Templars.

Cassandra smartly turned to face Teiran, her back to the small cottage. She unsheathed her knife and she grabbed Teiran’s bound hands. Teiran’s instincts kicked in and she tensed to pull away when Cassandra cut the rope around her hands.

“There will be a trial. I can promise no more.” Cassandra returned her knife to her belt and turned to open the cottage door.

“Where are you taking me?” Teiran asked, rubbing her wrists.

“We will be facing demons and you are unprepared.” Cassandra observed. She pulled Teiran inside and closed the door.

Teiran stood in the middle of the cottage fearfully pondering an encounter with demons as Cassandra passed the row of bunks to the large chest at the end. Cassandra crouched and shifted nosily through the contents. Teiran heard the metallic clink of armor pieces hitting each other.

She looked down at her dingy servant’s outfit, _“Oh.”_ She realized, self-consciously running her fingers through her greasy, tangled hair.

Cassandra finally straightened holding a dark brown, leather jerkin; she held it up in front of her face and looked critically at Teiran. “Ugh. You are smaller than anything we have on hand.” She commented as she threw the short-sleeved jerkin at Teiran. Before Teiran had time to blush and reprimand herself for being easily embarrassed, Cassandra had added a long-sleeved, cloth shirt and pants.

“Change into this. Be quick.” Cassandra ordered, pointing to the lavatory. Obediently, Teiran turned and walked with the armor and charcoal-colored clothes in her arms to the washbasin.

Cassandra began heedlessly tearing through another chest full of boots when she yelled over her shoulder, “And if you go anywhere else you will find that there are many people who were unwilling to wait for a trial to sentence you.”

Teiran glanced at the locked main door and the small window in the lavatory. Whether she felt reassured by the lock—or elated by the prospect of soap and water—she was not worried that someone would succeed in murdering her within the cottage. Besides, she had no plans to leave.

Cassandra had just located a small boot and was searching for its’ mate when she heard the lavatory door close behind Teiran. She glanced at the boot in her hand and examined it closer, _“Too light for the mountains.”_ She decided and threw it back into the chest, starting her search anew.


	7. The First Rift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heading up the mountain to get to the Breach. Meeting Solas and Varric at the first Rift.
> 
> Teiran's first time fighting demons, much to Cassandra's dismay.

Teiran was tying her wet, silvery-white hair into a bun when Cassandra pounded on the door. The Dalish elf jumped then opened the door to a pair of second-hand, knee-high boots. After pushing the boots into the elf’s arms, Cassandra paced the length of the cottage.

Carrying the heavy boots over to one of the beds, Teiran sat on the edge. Like the rest of her new outfit, they were dark in color and a half-size too large. _“Apparently there are few elven soldiers here.”_ Teiran thought, folding the sleeves to free her hands so she could lace the boots.

Cassandra stopped her pacing. Folding her arms impatiently, she watched Teiran lace up her boots inexpertly.

“Ugh.” Cassandra scoffed, walking over to Teiran. As soon as she had finished with her boots, Cassandra took her arm and hurried her towards the door.

Cassandra placed Teiran before her and fitted the smallest, iron helmet she could find on the elf’s head. However, while she was buckling leather bracers to Teiran’s forearms, she noted that the helmet wobbled loosely even with Teiran standing still.

Sighing dramatically, Cassandra took the helmet off her head and tossed it across the room. As Cassandra did so, she noticed that Teiran possessed freckles across her face, which had previously been hidden under a layer of grime and her loose hair. _“At least the dungeon smell is gone.”_ Cassandra thought, moving swiftly around Teiran.

Teiran could barely keep up with the warrior. Cassandra strapped iron shoulder pads to her jerkin and then snapped the door open expectantly. The wide-eyed, Dalish elf took the hint, stepping out into the snow with Cassandra on her heels.

Cassandra handed Teiran a small satchel, which she slung over her shoulder before curiously peaking inside.

“Head back to the main path, then turn left.” Cassandra directed. Teiran nodded, concluding her brief inspection of the bag: it had been empty save a sack of water.

They began their trek, Cassandra’s steady gaze pointing the way. The path led them to an arched gate with towering wooden doors. The guards, recognizing Cassandra upon their approach, opened them.

“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach.” Cassandra explained as they stepped onto the stone bridge littered with wooden crates, soldiers and rubble.

Teiran surveyed the snow-blanketed mountains stretching out before her, the ancient pine trees providing a rich green to contrast the white. The Breach rumbled apocalyptically, seeming to be suddenly more lethal than it had in Haven. Something about the backdrop of the walls of civilization had made the Breach seem less threatening than it did now against the wilderness.

            Cassandra looked behind her and frowned when she noticed that Teiran had not moved from the entrance, “Come. It is not far.”

“ _If she cannot fix this,”_ Cassandra worried, _“we will have to think of something else quickly. Either way, we must hurry.”_

Teiran looked from the Breach to Cassandra, “Right.”

Catching up with Cassandra, she noticed all around her laid wrapped bodies and injured soldiers. Teiran stopped and stared. She had never seen so many dead. And even fewer human corpses.

Suddenly, her arm was taken ahold of; She tore herself away, springing into a defensive position.

Cassandra looked down at her, she was confident that she could not be evaded even if Teiran decided to run. However, she allowed the elf to pull away, curious to see what she would do.

Immediately, Teiran straightened. Seeing the speculative look in the Seeker’s eyes, she smoothed the oversized armor and walked across the bridge. Cassandra followed closely.

As Teiran crossed the bridge, she continued to glance around her apprehensively, _“Was this all the work of demons? And they think I can stop all this! Me?”_ She stared down at her left hand, which seemed perfectly ordinary at the moment.

“Maker! Though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm.” Came a ringing voice. And from their right, a group of soldiers stood listening to a figure dressed in red and white robes.

Teiran quickened her step, _“The Chantry. Oh, great.”_ Listening to Cassandra’s even, long strides behind she suddenly felt grateful for her armored captor.

“I shall endure. What you have created, no one . . .” The priest continued as Teiran hurried out of earshot, doing her best not to look at all the wrapped bodies.

“Open the gates! We are heading into the valley.” Cassandra ordered from over Teiran’s shoulder. The two guards immediately pulled the heavy doors open.

The two passed under the imposing gate with sharp icicles hanging on the eaves and left the bridge behind them. Upon crossing the threshold, they neared the soldiers standing at-the-ready behind defenses composed of sharped pikes.

As they picked their way carefully up the dirt road winding around the base of the mountain, Teiran wondered if this was Haven’s only defense. She stopped when they got to the last spike. Beyond it lay piles of burning bodies, supplies and defenses.

A trio of soldiers came around the bend, running towards them in a single-file line. One soldier screamed, “Maker! It’s the end of the world!” And then they were gone.

Teiran stopped and turned to see Cassandra’s reaction: her grim, steady expression seemed to say, _“Yes, it is that bad. And yes, we are continuing on.”_

Teiran looked back to the Breach, it was closer now. She could see down into the valley where the missiles landed as they fell from the sky. Clenching her hands, she took a few breaths and stepped beyond that last defense.

They continued down the dirt path. Cassandra’s long strides’ easily matched Teiran’s hurried pace. The two dodged burning heaps strewn on either side and trudged through the snow in the places it spilled onto the path.

“AAAHHHHH!”

Lighting flashed from the center of the Breach. Teiran fell to her knees mid-stride. The center of her palm teared at the edges of the void. She experienced the worst pain yet.

When the pain began to loose its edge, Teiran became aware that she was lying on her side in the frozen dirt and slushy snow. Cassandra bent down and helped Teiran stand. The elf’s hand continued to flash with the wild magic.

Cassandra patted her shoulder sympathetically before continuing on, “The pulses are coming faster now.”

Teiran nodded weakly at the Seeker’s compassion, massaging her left hand.

Cassandra approached the entrance of the next stone bridge while explaining, “The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face.”

The Dalish elf looked up at the Breach and was astonished to find it did look wider and more deadly. Her hand continued to spasm as the magic flashed, but it was only an echo of what had transpired. _“Still,”_ she thought, _“It has never flashed again after the initial lightning of the Breach before. Should I be worried that my life is shortening considerably?”_

“How _did_ I survive the blast?” Teiran asked to distract herself from her train of thought.

“They said you . . . stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was.” Cassandra revealed. Teiran stopped and Cassandra turned to face her.

Teiran relived the hazy memory of the golden-silhouetted Chantry priest, “A woman? Like the one I remember?” she asked.

“I do not know.” Cassandra turned back and stepped onto the bridge, the conversation clearly finished. “Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I suppose you’ll see soon enough.” The end of her sentence was punctuated by one of the Breach’s magic missiles landing close to the bridge they were crossing.

Teiran flinched, but continued behind Cassandra. “Cassandra, wh—” Teiran began when one of those missiles hit the bridge in front of them.

The bridge shook under their feet. Soldiers ahead of them were thrown, bodies flailing against their airborne fate.

Disintegrating stone by stone, the bridge collapsed under them.

Teiran shielded her face.

Cassandra grabbed Teiran’s arm, “Watc—”

Teiran swung her arms out frantically in a vain attempt to regain her balance.

Cassandra lost her grip on Teiran’s arm.

They fell with the rest of the bridge.

Almost immediately, Teiran came in contact with the foundation under the bridge and her body rolled down the rocks, bruising her elbows and sides. However, her tumbling quickly ended. She hit the frozen lake with her palms pressed against the thick ice. She had miraculously landed without hitting her head.

“Ah.” Teiran panted, part in elation for being mostly unharmed and part in pain for her new bruises.

Cassandra groaned and shuffled to her knees. Teiran admired the strong warrior for a moment before another projectile came hurling towards them.

Teiran covered her ears as it smashed against the mountain, sending boulders flying.

A single heartbeat later, yet another missile hit the lake in a shower of magical fire. The sheet of ice shook. Teiran felt the vibrations throughout her whole, prone body.

Cassandra cursed, pulling herself upright and into a defensive position with her shield raised.

Balancing on her elbows, Teiran looked between Cassandra and the black and green fire raging upon its point of impact. The elf struggled to get to her feet.

The black magic took shape. The green burned away to reveal a ghastly, humanoid, robed figure. Teiran realized she was staring at a demon.

“Stay behind me!” Cassandra commanded. Cassandra unsheathed her sword and charged into battle with the demon, leaving Teiran beside the ruins of the bridge.

 _“One person against a demon? Alone? Does she think she can win or is she nobly throwing her life away?”_ Teiran panicked, her hands sparking with electric magic. _“Can I trust her? Can I afford not to reveal that I’m a mage?”_ Teiran’s internal conflict was cut short: green light shone from under the lake near her feet. _“Oh. No.”_

The black magic began swirling into the same form. Teiran looked frantically around her. _“Too close! Too close! Need a—”_ her head swiveled back to what she realized was next to her, _“A staff!”_

She could scarcely believe her good fortune as she ran to pick it up. She spun back around to face the demon with the staff ready. The demon swung it’s clawed hands and she held the staff with both hands to deflect the attack. The demon recoiled, it’s attack blocked. Teiran’s weak footing caused her to stumble before recovering.

Swinging the staff, Teiran sent a small ice projectile at the demon. Then she ran past the demon and towards Cassandra, who was still embroiled in her own battle.

Teiran prepared her next strike, both her hands warming with the flames surrounding them. She crouched in position with both hands at chest level, drew back her right hand then swung it forward, releasing the magic. Her flash-fire flew from her palm and hit the demon. The demon shrieked in a panic as it burned. The elf continued running towards Cassandra, her feet loosing traction on the ice every couple of steps.

Coming to stand beside Cassandra, Teiran twirled her staff over her head. Her electric, purple lightning ran from one end of the staff to the other. Once satisfied that it was fully charged, she plunged the end of the staff into the ground and released her attack. She watched as her magic bounced from one demon to the other. The demon chasing her from the bridge dissolved into wisps of ink-black magic.

Cassandra slew the other demon with a sharp stab to the ribs, pulling her sword from its body with a self-satisfied smile.   The demon dissolved into nothing. Cassandra turned to Teiran, sword still raised and ready.

Elated that she had survived her first demon attack, Teiran unwittingly approached Cassandra, “We did it!”

The Dalish elf was smiling widely when Cassandra commanded: “Drop your weapon. _Now_.”

Cassandra held her sword warningly in the space between them.

Startled, Teiran fell into a defensive crouch. Keeping her staff between herself and Cassandra’s sword, Teiran reasoned, “If you’re going to lead me through a demon-infested valley, you are going to have to trust me.”

Cassandra, with one sharp shake of her head, challenged, “Give me one reason to trust you.”

“Because my life is on the line. And I don’t necessarily need a staff.”

“Is that supposed to reassure me?” Cassandra asked, incredulous.

“I haven’t used my magic on you.” Teiran retorted.

Cassandra sighed nosily, “You are right. You don’t need a staff, but you should have one. I cannot protect you.” She sheathed her sword, turning to march up the hill leading out of the lake.

Teiran relaxed her stance and cautiously followed her.

A thought occurring to her, Cassandra turned back around, “I should remember you agreed to come willingly.”

Teiran nodded in agreement, reading the respect for her past actions in Cassandra’s tone.

With a glance at the mountains ahead, Cassandra reached for the pack at her hip, gathering items in her hand.

 _“Well, here we go.”_ Teiran thought. She looked beyond Cassandra to the slippery slope ahead. The path was in actuality a frozen river that fed into the lake. Teiran glanced back at the ruined bridge, still marveling over their survival.

Cassandra nudged Teiran from her thoughts with a cool, glass touch from a handful of green and blue liquid-filled vials, “Take these potions. Maker knows what we will face.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Teiran placed them in her bag.

The pair continued to follow the frozen river: Cassandra alert, staring ahead determinedly and seeming only a heartbeat away from pulling her sword; Teiran constantly peering about, her keen eyes resting occasionally on something that sparked a memory or thought.

While Cassandra moved swiftly and efficiently along the ice. Teiran was careful not to walk directly under the icicles that hung from the ledge overhead; she cut a cursory path behind Cassandra.

They came upon a tremendous, uprooted tree trunk blocking their path along the river, forcing them to change course. Cassandra led the way up a small ridge to their left and they found themselves on the ledge above the frozen river they had been traversing. Below them were more bodies and more demons.

The demons were unaware of their presence, gliding along the ice with their clawed arms swinging through the air as if they were wading through water. Teiran noticed that their gait was disjointed, with their lower half following their upper half rather than moving together.

The elf ducked out of sight and waited for the warrior to join her.

However, Cassandra leaped down onto the river, effectively drawing all the demons’ attention. “If we flank them, we may gain the advantage!” she yelled back to Teiran.

 _“What does that even mean?”_ Teiran thought angrily, remaining on the ridge above the demons. Teiran sprung up and attacked with an edge of panic causing her to miss more often than not.

As a mage and an elf, she preferred to stay out of reach of her enemies who were usually bigger and had more armor. Teiran hoped that ‘flanking’ them meant that she would attack from a distance while Cassandra maintained their attention.

Cassandra blocked and jabbed to keep the two demons focused on her; she watched Teiran’s magic assail them from above, noting how many attacks blasted the ice rather than her enemies.

Finally, one demon burned into oblivion and the other demon skewered with the blue-white, ice magic from the mage’s staff.

Cassandra breathed deeply and swung her shield over her back before looking up to watch Teiran coming down the hill to join her on the iced river.

They looked at each other and Cassandra saw that her companion was already fatigued. “You tire easily.” She stated.

Teiran looked up at her, her large eyes narrowed in annoyance, “I’m doing my best, Cassandra. This is the most magic I’ve ever used at one time in my life.”

Cassandra scoffed, already planning stamina training for the soft, Dalish mage. Cassandra continued up river with Teiran a couple steps behind.

After climbing a set of stairs leading from the river up the mountain—which Teiran supposed was meant for those who travel by boat when the river was not frozen solid—they finally reached the original path they had been traversing before falling off the stone bridge.

Teiran looked around at the result of an avalanche: bare trees, the remnants of another stone bridge, overturned wagons and a sloping mountain of snow entombed more bodies.

“Where are all your soldiers?” Teiran asked, fearful that the Seeker expected just the two of them to combat all this chaos.

“At the forward camp or fighting. We are on our own, for now.” Cassandra assured her as she trudged through the thick snow.

Teiran sighed, _“Well, at least there is the prospect of someone helping us at some point.”_

When they came upon a large rock overlooking the iced river, Teiran saw an extensive bridge crossing the river in the distance.

“Look! At least one bridge is still intact!” Teiran exclaimed, throwing Cassandra a small smile over her shoulder.

BOOM!

The ground shook with the first impact. A green projectile from the Breach had smashed completely through the bridge before colliding into the frozen lake with earth-shattering force.

“Oh!” Cassandra shouted as they regained their balance. “More demons!” She shouted, running over the ledge to meet them.

The two made short work of the demons with their strategy; Cassandra holding their attention while Teiran eventually picked them off from afar. Teiran’s hands buzzed numbly with so much use of her magic, loosing count of the times she hurled red-hot flames and stunning lighting at the demons. Cassandra showed no wear on her concentrated brow and sank easily into her solid stance each time the demons attempted to reach her behind her shield.

After the skirmish, they came upon another staircase carved into the mountain. Cassandra sighed in relief, “We’re getting close to the rift.”

Halfway up the staircase, Cassandra paused, her body tensing. With renewed vigor she jogged up the stairs, “I can hear the fighting!”

Teiran struggled to keep up with her. “Who’s fighting?” she huffed at Cassandra’s back.

“You’ll see soon. We must help them.” Cassandra replied without turning around. The warrior, reaching the top of the stairs, pivoted into a full run.

Teiran clambered after her, reaching the top of the stairs just as Cassandra dashed towards the sounds of battle. Teiran paused, distracted; her eyes running over the burning supply wagons and corpses, she realized they were atop the bridge that they had witnessed being destroyed.

Cassandra took the decimated path to the left of the carnage, jumping off a ledge and out of sight.

Teiran ran after her. Reaching the ledge, she saw what Cassandra had meant: a dwarf, two humans and an elf battled against a handful of demons with a strange, spiky sphere suspended above them.

The sphere’s spikes fluctuated, constantly rearranging into different configurations, but always protecting the lime-colored magic at its center.

Even as Cassandra joined the fight, one of the human warriors became just another corpse on the ground.

Running to help, Teiran dropped down from the ledge. She approached, feeling a beam of winter magic cooling the air as it froze a demon into a gruesome ice sculpture. _“I’m not the only mage in this battle.”_ Teiran thought, nearing the dwarf wielding a strange-looking crossbow.

Teiran began her attack with lighting, affecting all three opponents in her vicinity simultaneously. Then she focused on the demon advancing on the dwarf. The dwarf, despite his stocky build, lithely dodged the demon’s claws as he tried to get out of reach long enough to take aim.

Cassandra had joined the battle alongside the remaining human warrior and together they defeated a powerful shade. However, when the demon fell so did the other warrior. Cassandra mourned for a moment, then turned, shield up, to face the last remaining demon. The demon dissolved into ashes with a bolt from the dwarf’s crossbow before she could reach it.

Cassandra pulled in a breath, relaxing her offensive stance, but with her shield still ready.

Varric’s sharp gaze never diverted from the rift as he reloaded his crossbow by feel.

Teiran was slumped over in exhaustion with her hands on her knees, breathing deeply.

Solas zeroed in on a flash of green light from across the crumbling courtyard.

Teiran straightened, staring at her left hand, perplexed. This flash lacked its usual mind-numbing pain. She was pleasantly surprised that the activated void in her hand didn’t knock her senseless to the ground, even if it did become uncomfortably cold and tense. Something was definitely different about this flash, even the light wasn’t blinding. She was able to see its outline on her palm. The oval-shaped slice of green magic ran from under her index finger, past her thumb and ended at her wrist.

Solas appreciated the flash of light, because he might not have recognized that the elf in front of him was the same elf that he had tended to all night. He realized that he had never seen her face before. And her hair was pulled tightly into a bun rather than a disheveled mess hanging limply around her shoulders. His gaze narrowed in annoyance, she was too far away from the rift.  He yelled in her direction, “Quickly, before more come through!”

Teiran looked up at the other elf swiftly approaching her with a look of fierce concentration directed at her hand. Solas unceremoniously grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the spiky sphere.

Instinct cautioned her, but when she felt the pull from the rift on her hand, her curiosity sparked.  Both the rift itself and the elf were drawing her in.

Teiran glanced from the rift to the elf. Seeing the formidable look on his face, the idea that she shouldn’t indulge in this curiosity crossed her mind. The warning never made it to her feet.

Simultaneously, Solas turned from her to stare down the wild magic, holding the mark up to the rift. Solas steadied her hand. The mark flared and she felt the void reappear.

The sensation of the mark connecting to the rift was similar to a linen scarf looping right through the center of her palm and back out to the sphere of green magic. She could feel the looped fabric of the magic gaining speed as it tore through her hand. When it crackled, she instinctively closed her hand, grasping the magic in a futile attempt to stop the magic tearing through her flesh. It recoiled. Her arm flung backwards with the kickback.

Solas released her arm, stepping back with a deep breath. He composed himself, doing his best to look meek as he hunched his shoulders and faced her.

Teiran, massaging her shoulder and flexing her arm, looked up to the spot where the spiky, spherical rift had been, “What did you do?” she asked, unconsciously moving a half step towards Cassandra.

“ _I_ did nothing. The credit is yours.” Solas replied, a small smile on his lips.

Teiran frowned and looked down at her hand, clenching and unclenching it. She was certain she had done nothing worth the flattery. This was magic that she had no control over and was wholly unfamiliar with.

“You mean this? It closed that thing.” She looked from her left hand back at him, “How?”

“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake—and it seems I was correct.” Solas explained, modestly proud about his theories being bolstered by fact.

Cassandra came to stand beside Teiran, “Meaning it could also close the Breach itself.” The two women looked at each other.

Teiran saw the calculating look in Cassandra’s gaze, _“I must have earned my right to live then.”_

“Possibly.” Solas replied sedately to Cassandra. He folded his hands in front of him before turning to address Teiran. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation,” he praised quietly.

Teiran smiled tensely, the corners of her mouth pulling back quickly before looking away. She felt like he had extended some pleasant triviality that one was supposed to say in such situations, but she did not feel was in actuality true. Therefore, she awkwardly tried to avoid it.

Teiran eyed him and he gazed back mildly at her. _“Had I been imagining the look he had earlier? I must have been.”_  Teiran shrugged internally and admitted that she was very tired; the elf in front of her was nothing but helpful, modest and submissive Teiran judged.

Thankfully, the dwarf spoke, “Good to know! Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.” Varric’s illustrious voice rang across the courtyard. He tugged at his glove before sauntering over to the other three.

They all turned to face Varric, who continued with a flourish of his hands, “Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong.” He winked at Cassandra, who glared back at him.

Teiran smiled warmly at him, appreciative of his charismatic personality that he wore like his coat: unbuttoned for the entire world to admire. She was reminded of her older brother, though a proper elf would never be so brazen.

“Are you a soldier or . . .?” Teiran speculated, trying to discover his role in all of this and the odds of him remaining with her and Cassandra.

The bald elf scoffed lightheartedly, “Was that a serious question?”

Varric’s eyes flicked to Solas then down to his gloves. He readjusted them again and answered matter-of-factly, “Technically I’m a prisoner. Just like you.” At the last word, he looked up at Teiran.

Teiran’s eyes widened, _“After all this, am I still just a prisoner?”_ she wondered. However, she was heartened to see that Cassandra’s prisoners could eventually gain enough freedom to leave her side. And clearly, Varric was in good health.

“I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine. Clearly, that is no longer necessary.” Cassandra’s forceful voice rang with annoyance.

Teiran glanced at her: this was the first time she had heard Cassandra speak of the Divine without a hint of underlying grief.

Varric replied with a meaningful look at Cassandra, “Yet, here I am. Lucky for you, considering current events.”

Teiran cleared her throat and tilted her head in greeting, “Pleased to meet you Varric. I am Teirantala of Clan Lavellan.”

Solas could not forgo the opportunity to poke fun at Varric; “You may reconsider that stance, in time.”

Teiran looked back at Solas and saw that his expression of mock seriousness matched his tone. Teiran frowned as she pivoted to see Varric’s unruffled reaction, _“Huh. Must be more to him.”_    She revised her judgment of Solas.

Varric replied with equal mock injury, “Awww! I’m sure we’ll become great friends in the valley, Chuckles.”

“ _Chuckles?_ ” Teiran puzzled.

Cassandra erupted, “Absolutely not!”

Cassandra sighed exasperatedly, “Your help is appreciated, Varric, but—” she stepped in between Teiran and Varric, attempting to diplomatically rid herself of the dwarf.

Varric interrupted, standing tall to match her in fortitude if not in height, “Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore.” He smiled smugly, “You need me.”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. She turned her back to him in grudging defeat.

Teiran smiled at the exchange. So Cassandra was capable of standing down, if the reason was sound enough. Her smile faltered, _“That meant the situation is really—_ ”

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions.” The elf stated, briefly placing his hand on his chest, coming to stand in Teiran’s view. Solas continued with an amused expression, “I am pleased to see you still live.”

Varric graciously explained, “He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.’”

Taken aback, Teiran turned her full attention to Solas, “Then I thank you.”

Solas was surprised at the honest appreciation that flowed automatically from a Dalish elf, even if it was premature, “Thank me if we manage to close the Breach without killing you in the process.”

Teiran stiffened at his words, _“Well, that was a bit harsh.”_ However, she continued with the question she had already intended to follow her thanks, “So, how did you do . . . that exactly?”

Solas replied objectively, “Healing magic and minor wards, but I fear your mark is now past the point where those can help you.”

“You seem to know a great deal about it all.” Teiran remarked, hoping he would tell her more about this strange magic that has attached itself to her hand.

Solas smiled faintly in response; he appreciated her curiosity if not the compliment itself. However before he could answer Cassandra spoke, “Like you, Solas is an apostate.”

Solas met Cassandra’s intense gaze and gently corrected, “Technically, all mages are now apostates, Cassandra.”

Solas looked back to Teiran, “My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed regardless of origin.” He concluded rationally.

Teiran stared at him a moment, it was a rare thing to hear her own rationalization from another, “That’s a very sensible attitude.”

Solas watched her levelly; he had expected her to counter with an argument about it being a shemlen problem or to suggest that it is the wrath of the ancient elven gods. “I believe it to be so, although sense seems to be in short supply right now.”

Solas turned to Cassandra, “Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have seen. Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine _any_ mage having such power.”

Cassandra dipped her head as she replied meaningfully, “Understood.”

Teiran looked between the two, she judged Cassandra to be the one leading in the chaos, but obviously she took Solas’ advice seriously. “ _Cassandra was their leader, but Solas is the expert among us_ ”, she determined. And he had just suggested that she was not the culprit behind the Breach and the Divine’s death. Something Teiran greatly appreciated.

“We must get to the forward camp, quickly.” Cassandra declared, marching off with Solas close behind her.

“Well…Bianca’s excited.” Varric shrugged, following the other two.

As Teiran watched the others make their way through the rubble, snow and corpses, she noticed a staff. She picked it up, feeling its solid weight in her hand.

Without hesitation, she took aim at a crumbling bit of wall in the opposite direction of the party. A fireball shot across the ruins, leaving a blast mark on the remaining stone. Teiran, satisfied with her experiment, placed the ice staff gently on the ground and slung the fire staff across her back.

Teiran turned around to follow the others, when she found herself confronted with their defensive stances and weapons trained on her. She held up her hands in surrender and apologetically smiled at them. _“Oops.”_ She upbraided herself for forgetting she was not alone.

Varric breathed deeply, slinging his crossbow over his back at the sight of Teiran’s surrender.

Cassandra slowly sheathed her sword, but kept her shield on her arm until Solas finally straightened with his staff hitting the ground sharply.

The bald elf, dwarf and human all stared at Teiran with differing gradients of bewilderment and annoyance.

Jogging over to them, Teiran blushed a violent red. Varric shook his head and laughed to himself while Cassandra replaced her shield on her back. Solas followed Teiran’s approach with watchful eyes.

She rejoined them, but left as much distance between them as she dared: still wanting to be apart of the group, but not wanting to put them anymore on edge.

With a huff, Cassandra vaulted over some exposed beams that had once held up a wall, leading them out of the ruins. The Seeker turned around to see Solas next to her with Varric close behind. “This way! Down the bank; the road ahead is blocked.” She called.

Solas didn’t have to turn around to know that Teiran was struggling to get over the thick beams that had slowed, but not stopped, the dwarf. “We must move quickly.” He reminded them.

The three of them waited as Teiran hoisted herself up and over carefully, she was clearly not accustomed to the physical demands of repeated battle in combination with intense, armored traveling.

When Teiran landed on the other side of the beam, she gasped in pain. Shutting her eyes tight, she grabbed her hand. The other three watched her left hand flicker.

“Hold on. We haven’t much farther.” Cassandra offered in the way of sympathy.

Teiran straightened, shaking her left hand as if she could rid herself of the pain. She avoided their gazes, walking past them and starting down the steep, ice-encrusted hill leading into a canyon.

The boulders on either side of her path that created the canyon were covered in thick snow and decorated with deadly sharp icicles. The frost-bound river that Cassandra and Teiran had been traversing reappeared. Teiran looked down at the still river, letting her gaze follow it up the side of the canyon when she realized that they were walking by a thick, frozen-solid waterfall.

Awed, she rubbed her hands together for warmth, wondering how much longer they would be traveling. Her thoughts moved from her numb fingers to her aching hand. _“Do I even dare hope that this might all turn out to be a nightmare?”_ Teiran mused. One where she would awaken to find her hand had hurt in this dream because it had found its way under her head while she slept.

Teiran hadn’t realized she had stopped to contemplate these things until she heard Varric’s compact build tread past her. Solas and Cassandra had taken the lead. Teiran ran to Varric’s side. They walked in silence.

“That’s a nice crossbow you have there.” Teiran commented to break the silence.

Varric turned to gaze lovingly at the crossbow strapped to his back, “Ah, isn’t she? Bianca and I have been through a lot together.”

Teiran laughed airily, “You named your crossbow Bianca?”

“Of course. And she’ll be great company in the valley.” Varric answered good-naturedly. “So, Loner, how have you avoided being strung up for this mess yet?”

Teiran starred into Varric’s amber-colored eyes, _“Is that supposed to be me?”_ she thought as she struggled to pin-down how she felt about the nickname: offended? Relieved it wasn’t ‘Chuckles’? That it was painfully accurate?

“Umm . . . I can’t close the Breach if I’m dead?” She responded defensively, trying to distance herself from Varric’s perceptiveness.

Solas commented without turning around to face them, “That is most certainly true.”

They were nearing the end of the canyon, the river widening once more into a frozen lake. Without warning, two fiery missiles from the Breach landed on the expanse of solid water.

Cassandra and Solas sprang into defensive positions.

“Demons ahead!” Solas warned.

Varric pulled his crossbow into position, “Happy you brought me now Seeker?” The smug smile obvious in his voice.

Teiran equipped her staff, her grip tense.

Cassandra rushed ahead of the group, making herself the biggest target on the battlefield. Solas thrust his staff into the ground, sending cerulean wisps of magic revolving around each of them.

“ _Barriers.”_ Teiran realized as the silky spell washed over her. She glimpsed the magical barrier circling her out of the corner of her eye.

Teiran unleashed a torrent of lightning that bounced between the robed Shades while Varric took aim against the ghost-like Wraiths. The elf watched Cassandra and Solas from the ledge above the ravine with Varric.

At first each of the three had attacked a different demon. Unfortunately, as the battle went on all of them would focus on the same demon and then realize their mistake and attempt to switch targets, leaving the original target without an opponent.

Cassandra did her best to keep the other three from being targeted and shielded them from any close-range attacks. However, she was outnumbered.

Solas’ protective barriers were put to the test when the Greater Shade slipped behind their uncoordinated defense and struck Solas, who was unharmed if now without his barrier. Solas countered by temporarily freezing the opponent in front of him and dodging the one behind him.

Teiran realized Solas’ situation, sending her staff’s fire bolts at the advancing demon.

Cassandra stepped between Solas and the rapidly thawing demon while still attempting to hold off the Wrights.

Varric took a moment to perfect his aim, bringing down one of the Wrights.

Solas, Teiran and Varric all targeted the Greater Shade and it fell under their combined assault; however the Lesser Shade, now facing no opponent, still wailed upon Cassandra’s shield in combination with the last remaining Wright’s attack. Cassandra ground her teeth.

Thankfully, Solas and Teiran aimed for the Lesser Shade, making short work of it. And Varric took aim at the farthest opponent. Finally, all four demons dissipated and the group reconvened on the lake.

Cassandra huffed, “That was sloppy.” She reprimanded them, “And next time, declare which enemy you are fighting so none get past us. And you,” Cassandra pointed to Teiran, “you are behind me with Solas to prevent an enemy attacking him from behind.” And with that, Cassandra turned on her heel and marched off.

Teiran frowned, _“Was that something she was just supposed to know?”_ she raged internally, watching Cassandra survey the area.

The Breach was extremely visible now. The lake was constantly being pelted with the magic that spewed from it. Flames engulfed one of the houses on the lake.

While Cassandra decided their route, Teiran’s hand flared again. She wrapped a vice-like grip around her left wrist and repressed a scream. Varric took a step towards her, “Shit. Are you alright?”

Teiran couldn’t answer for a long moment. When the pain subsided, she nodded shakily.

“We must hurry, before the mark consumes her.” Solas urged.

Cassandra marched up a staircase to the right of the burning building, clearly haven chosen their path. Teiran forced her feet to move forward and follow Cassandra with Varric and Solas following suit.

They were climbing the snow-covered, stone steps when Solas addressed Teiran; “You are Dalish, but clearly away from the rest of your clan. Did they send you here?” he asked with an innocent tone.

Teiran turned to look at him without stopping, her patience wearing thin under the physical exhaustion of the mark and battles, “What do you know of the Dalish?”

“I have wandered many roads in my time. And crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion.” He continued in the same monotone of innocence, eyes trained on the stairs underneath his feet as they climbed.

Teiran was annoyed at his coy, indirect answers. However, she took a deep breath, they did not know each other and she had just been unnecessarily short with him. She tried to make peace with a gentle tone and a reminder of common ground, “We are both of the same people, Solas.”

“The Dalish I met felt… differently on the subject.” He offered in return, still cryptic and with wariness in his pause.

After a few more steps, Teiran decided to chance a follow-up question, “What did you mean by ‘crossed paths’?”

“I mean that I offered to share knowledge, only to be attacked for no greater reason than their superstition.” He answered directly, the frustration leaking through his calm tone.

“Can’t you elves play nicely for once?” Varric asked with the tone of an exasperated parent.

Teiran stopped and stood in front of Solas. She found that she was looking into gray eyes ringed with violet irises. The unusual color almost made her forget what she had been about to say. When Solas started to step around her, she remembered: “I’m sorry.” Teiran blurted out.

Cassandra paused and turned. Varric leaned around Solas to gaze curiously at Teiran. Solas turned his full attention to the Dalish in front of him.

“I know there are those among our kind who would respond that way to a non-Dalish elf and I—“ Teiran did not finish her sentence. She clamped her jaw around a yelp, her hand flashing.

Solas did not know how to respond.

Cassandra called out to them from a couple steps above, “Hurry! We don’t have much time.”

Varric was the first to resume their climb, motioning to the two elves. The three jogged up the stairs, easily closing the distance between them and the Seeker.

Cassandra eyed each of them, assessing their condition before continuing to lead them up the mountain. For a few minutes they traveled in silence, passing fresh ruins of stone.

“So… _are_ you innocent?” Varric asked apathetically, but watching Teiran’s reaction out of the corner of his eye.

Without hesitation, Teiran asserted, “I don’t remember what happened.”

“That’ll get you every time.” Varric snickered. “Shoulda spun a story.” He advised her unscrupulously.

“That’s what _you_ would have done.” Cassandra rebuked.

“It’s more believable. And less prone to result in premature execution.” Varric declared without a trace of shame. Teiran smiled without comment.

They all continued up the stairs, their only path through the thick mounds of snow on either side of them. Looking up at the sky, the Breach was blinding; they were close enough to see its white core. Now, they could no longer see a divide between the gray swirls of sky around the Breach. They had left that safety and were climbing towards the heart of the fierce magic.

Upon reaching the top of the staircase, they found themselves at the foot of a dirt path almost completely obscured by the snow. Trekking up the steep hill, they passed burning supply wagons and the frostbitten corpses of soldiers. Cassandra could only glance at the destruction, hoping not to see a face she recognized.

“I hope Leliana made it through this.” Cassandra worried staring at smoldering Chantry banner.

Teiran looked up to search her expression, but Cassandra hadn’t turned around. Teiran could only see her shield. The elf decided that the concern was undeniably genuine in her voice. Teiran added this to her newly forming judgment that the Seeker possessed a good heart under her rough, demanding exterior.

“She’s resourceful Seeker.” Varric offered sympathetically.

“We will see for ourselves at the forward camp. We’re almost there.” Solas encouraged, anticipation ringing in his last words.


	8. So, No One is in Charge Here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra, Solas, Varric and Teiran make it to the Forward Camp. Meeting Leliana and Chancellor Roderick.
> 
> Teiran makes her first decision: Mountain Pass or Direct Assault?

Teiran sighed, switching her weight from foot to foot, mentally preparing herself before falling into step beside Varric.

Cassandra mounted the first step of the last staircase.

Even from the very back of their party, Teiran could hear, “They keep coming! Help us!!”

The four of them bounded up the last steps, reaching the top of the hill in record time. Demons, soldiers and a spikey, spherical rift awaited them.

Crashing through the fir trees on their right, closest to Cassandra and Solas, a Shade demon descended upon them. Solas quickly sealed the demon in ice: it’s claws extended towards them, but falling short of Cassandra’s shield. The mage immediately swung his arm from left to right at chest level, casting barriers around them.

Varric somersaulted away from the rift, leaving a semi-circle of spikes between Cassandra, Solas and the thawing demon.

Teiran resisted the urge to follow Varric, remaining steadfast behind Cassandra and alert for any attack while they retreated from the demon. A crack and a flash of green came from her left hand, the rift echoing the sound as it radiated more green than black, shifting its shape.

“Another rift!” Cassandra bellowed. She sunk into a defensive posture just as a Wright’s magic bounced off her shield.

Solas was already backing away, attacking the fully thawed Shade as he shouted over his shoulder, “We must seal it, quickly!”

Teiran unleashed her lighting attack when she heard Varric yell, “Dibs on those glowing bastards near the gate!”

Cassandra smiled at Varric’s idea of following her instructions to coordinate their attack. She bashed her shield into an advancing demon.

The fight progressed, four more demons falling before their combined assault.

Solas defeated the demon before him, realizing it was the last foe currently on the battlefield.

Cassandra and Varric scanned for more enemies.

Teiran glanced between her hand and the rift, watching the two respond to each other’s proximity. She took a curious step forward.

Solas clenched his jaw, “Hurry—Use the mark!” He instructed.

Teiran curled her fingers around the mark, stepping forward, the rift responded by shifting shape: from spikes to a liquid-looking configuration of pure emerald magic. She opened her hand, exposing her palm to the rift. It felt like she had thrown a grappling hook that, hitting its mark, proceeded to pull her in.

She planted her feet and hung on to her left arm. The magic pulled through the void in her hand. It gained speed and the crackling turned into a hum that increased in tempo. Instinctively, she grabbed the fabric, closing the loop between her and the rift.

The rift sputtered and remained looming before them.

Teiran was baffled, _“Huh?”_

Solas sighed inaudibly behind her.

The marked elf frowned and held her palm up once more. Her magical equivalent of a grappling hook hit its target and pulled her in once again. The rift responded again and this time Teiran waited a breath longer before closing her hand and pulling the magic that connected the two. This time the rift fizzled and vanished. Teiran breathed deeply, smiling triumphantly to herself.

Varric cheered, startling the object of his praise, “Whatever that thing on your hand is Loner, it sure is useful!”

“We are clear for the moment” Solas informed Cassandra before turning to Teiran, “Well done.” He praised lightly.

“The rift is gone! Open the gate!” Cassandra called to the remaining soldiers.

The soldiers saluted her before responding, “Right away Lady Cassandra!” The creak of the doors swiftly followed.

After being the only four people on the mountain for so long, encountering only demons and corpses, the sight of other people was somewhat jarring to the Dalish elf.

Cassandra strode confidently amongst the soldiers as they entered the forward camp.

After crossing the threshold of the gate, Teiran glanced at the new faces around her; the soldiers at the gate had been a mixture of awe and fear, but the expressions that met hers now were closer to despairing or suspicious. She noticed there were more than a few bodies on the narrow bridge.

The wind whistled through the campfires and supplies spilled across the stone bridge, blowing flurries of snow and ash in their faces. It also carried the raised voices of an argument occurring on the far side of the bridge.

“We must prepare the soldiers!” the Orlesian-accented voice urged.

“We will do no such thing.” The antagonistic voice countered.

“The prisoner must get to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It is our only chance!” the Orlesian-accent exclaimed.

“You have already caused enough trouble without resorting to this exercise in futility.” The other voice accused pompously.

Cassandra lead them across the bridge without pause to where a male Chantry priest leaned over a table while the hooded woman from the dungeon stood with crossed arms before him. As Cassandra and the others approached, the volume of Leliana and the priest’s argument went from a whisper on the wind to a full-on shouting match:

“ _I have_ caused trouble?” Leliana asked incredulously.

“You, Cassandra, the Most Holy—haven’t you all done enough already?” he replied.

Leliana looked between the priest and the approaching party, “You are not in command here.” She stated with finality.

“Enough! I will not have it.” He shouted, feeling the sting of her threat to his tenuous authority.

Cassandra locked gazes with Leliana. Teiran stayed close to the Seeker with Solas and Varric trailing behind them.

“Ah, here they come.” The Chantry priest drawled imperially.

Leliana stepped towards Cassandra, “You made it.” Keeping her back to the priest, she began introductions, “Chancellor Roderick, this is—“

“I know who she is.” He declared, turning from Leliana to glare at Teiran.

Teiran was as much taken aback by his hatred as she was by the fact that he knew who she was at all.

Her surprise was evident even from Solas’ viewpoint behind her, _“If she survives this, how will she react to notoriety?”_ He wondered.

Chancellor Roderick addressed Cassandra while pointing at Teiran, “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution.”

Teiran looked to Cassandra for her reaction, _“After all they had been through was she going to follow his command? Did she have a choice?”_ Teiran suddenly became painfully aware of her scant knowledge of the inner-workings of the Chantry hierarchy.

“‘Order me’? You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!” Cassandra responded, the words “clerk” and “bureaucrat” thrown at the priest as one would a curse.

Teiran smiled, appreciative of Cassandra’s reaction and also in agreement with her sentiments on the Chantry’s bureaucratic structure.

Varric laughed silently, grinning proudly at the Seeker.

Leliana kept her frozen mask in place. She waited for the priest’s inevitable attack.

Chancellor Roderick turned on Cassandra, “And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!”

Leliana intervened, “We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know.” Leliana’s voice softened at the end, turning from Roderick to Cassandra, sharing a moment of fellowship.

“Justinia is dead!” Chancellor Roderick threw his hands up in frustration. “We must elect a replacement and obey _her_ orders on the matter!” He concluded logically.

Teiran watched the power-struggle unfold, _“So none of them are actually in charge here. This is pointless. All these things can be decided after we deal with—_ ” she glanced at the magic and demons being flung from the Breach and landing on all sides of them.

“Isn’t closing the Breach the more pressing issue here?” Teiran advocated, her palms facing upwards as she gestured.

Leliana glanced at Teiran, _“Had Cassandra shared Solas’ prediction that the mark would swallow her if the Breach continued to grow? Was this stemming from a desire to live? Or does our prisoner have noble intentions?”_

Chancellor Roderick became enraged, pointing accusingly, “ _You_ brought this on us in the first place!”

Cassandra stepped forward, between Chancellor Roderick and Teiran. Chancellor Roderick turned on the Seeker, switching to a soft and persuasive tone, “Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless.”

Cassandra shook her head once, “We can stop this before it’s too late.” Cassandra’s pointed finger tapped the table strewn with the Chancellor’s documents.

“How?” Chancellor Roderick asked dismally, “You won’t survive long enough to reach the Temple, even with all your soldiers.” He frowned sadly, thinking over all the wrapped bodies he had seen today.

Cassandra was unmoved, “We must get to the Temple. It’s the quickest route.”

“But not the safest.” Leliana contributed, sensing Cassandra’s plan. “Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains.” She pointed to the snowy ridge.

Leliana was not surprised when Cassandra disagreed; “We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It is too risky.”

Chancellor Roderick pleaded, “Listen to me. Abandon this now before more lives are lost!”

Without warning, green light enveloped them and the ground vibrated under their feet from the shock of magic emanating the Breach.

Teiran’s hand reciprocated. Twitching uncontrollably, the mark ignited without outlet. She gripped her trembling arm while the others watched her with mixed reactions. Some were worried, but used to the sight, while others became unreadable. Chancellor Roderick gazed at her curiously.

Teiran watched the mark dim and dissipate, leaving only ripples of magic swirling around her hand before disappearing completely. Once the uncomfortable feeling of the void in her hand being stretched passed, she looked up.

Cassandra was suddenly before her gazing directly, resolutely into her eyes, “How do _you_ think we should proceed?”

Teiran’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief, “You’re asking for _my_ opinion?”

Solas studied Cassandra, impressed. _“Cassandra is a natural leader. And she is freely handing the position to someone else. Was there something I had missed that made Cassandra think the Dalish would be an able leader? Or was the Seeker acting on instinct? Either way,”_ he thought, _“giving up one’s power is a thing rarely seen.”_

“You have the mark.” Solas asserted, deciding to encourage the transfer of power. His motivation being half-curious to see how Teiran would handle it and half out of the necessity to manipulate the Veil with fewer restrictions.

Cassandra sighed in resignation, “And you are the one we must keep alive.” She continued plainly, “Since we cannot agree on our own . . .” It hurt her pride to admit that they needed someone else to lead them. But without a second thought, Cassandra looked beyond her own hurt feelings to do all in her power to ensure they succeeded in their mission to close the Breach.

From Cassandra’s serious hazel eyes to Leliana’s icy blue stare, neither seemed to be about to change their mind.

Teiran looked down at her ill-fitting leather boots, thinking grimly, _“Well, I had wanted to lead.”_ The face of her mother, her grandfather and her Keeper, flashed through her mind. _“I am technically First to the Keeper after all, even if I was never actually going to become Keeper. This is my chance . . .”_ Teiran looked up, determined.

“Tell me more about . . .your plan.” Teiran faltered, but gazed at Cassandra steadily.

Cassandra nodded once before answering, “My soldiers will rally and ensure our arrival to the Temple. Careful, sustained assault.”

Chancellor Roderick threw his hands up in disbelief, “You can’t be serious!” Everyone ignored him.

Teiran’s high eyebrows pulled down around her eyes in concentration. She turned to Leliana, awkwardly gesturing for her to explain as well, “And . . . uh . . .” Teiran suddenly realized she had forgotten the hooded woman’s name.

Leliana crossed her arms in front of her and smirked, “Cassandra’s soldiers would be a distraction and there may be casualties. However, there is a chance of rescuing my scouts if we take the mountain path.”

 _“Or running into whatever they did and becoming lost ourselves.”_ Teiran concluded _. “There isn’t one clearly better option.”_ Teiran judged, gazing up at the mountain Leliana had pointed out earlier. _“But there is a chance of saving lives . . .”_

Teiran finally spoke, “Use the mountain path.” She watched a shadow pass over Cassandra’s features and heard an approving chuckle from the dwarf behind her.

Leliana looked questioningly to Cassandra. Cassandra turned to face her, “Leliana, bring everyone left in the valley. Everyone.”

 _“Leliana. That was her name!”_ Teiran thought in relief. She permanently linked the name to the scarlet-haired, deadly serious woman in front of her.

Leliana nodded, observing Cassandra closely. Cassandra, however, turned from her and marched towards the path onward.

Teiran watched the Seeker accept her decision without questions then issue the commands to make it a reality with wide-eyed wonder. When in the presence of her Clan, there had never been a time she hadn’t flexed her leadership muscles where she didn’t meet backbreaking resistance. She was floored by Cassandra’s willingness to trust her.

Varric appeared next to her—breaking through her shock—winked at her before continuing across the bridge casually. Teiran hurried to fall in step next to him.

As Cassandra passed Chancellor Roderick, he warned her contemptuously, “On your head be the consequences, Seeker.”

Cassandra heard him, but paid him little mind. She already felt the weight of her decision settle on her shoulders and the fear of making the wrong decision tighten her throat. She swallowed and looked up at the elf in which she had placed her hopes.

Solas hung back and allowed the others to walk in front of him. He surveyed the other three, furiously analyzing the situation.  He pondered the possible results of the Dalish’s embrace of offered leadership and the consent from both human and dwarf.


	9. Sealing the Breach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We made it up the mountain! We sealed the Breach! Now, we're going to have to carry an unconscious Herald back down the mountain.
> 
> "Ugh." Cassandra sighed, "What a day."

Green magic landed on both sides of the small path their footsteps carved out of the decimated summit. Teiran lead the way up the mountain’s ridge, stepping carefully through the snow and avoiding the debris of charred trees stripped bare of their foliage.

In their trek, Teiran had already slipped twice and been caught by Cassandra whose steady footfalls currently sounded behind her with unceasing pace. _“The stamina of a soldier.”_ She thought wistfully, forcing her tired limbs and numb feet to continue. Teiran hoped they were close to their destination. She drank from her canteen and wiped the sweat from her face.

Varric turned around to see if the other elf was still behind him. As they had climbed higher, Varric would occasionally glance behind and notice Solas a fair distance away from them, contemplating their surroundings, as if he had forgotten about them. Varric waved him forward with a carefree smile, “Chuckles!”

Every time Varric did this, Solas merely smiled complacently, falling in step behind the dwarf. Still, Varric wondered uneasily if the next time he turned around he would find the elf had disappeared.

They went around yet another bend in the mountain when they found themselves on a boarded path. The sound of snow crushing under their boots changed to the smack of wood being pounded in the rhythm of their strides.

Teiran became braver under the solid planks and increased her pace. She realized her misplaced trust when her foot slid out from under her. The person next to her caught her elbow and she looked up to thank her savior, but saw no one. Her gaze roamed downward in surprise—unused to having someone around who was shorter than her—at Varric’s grinning expression.

“Don’t see a lot of snow where you’re from Loner?” Varric asked.

Teiran smiled embarrassedly and ducked her head, “Thank you, Varric. And um . . . I’m from the Free Marches, so a bit of experience with snow. Less experience with human settlements,” she said, indicating the wooden planks, “There wouldn’t be something like this in the villages so . . .” She realized she had perhaps revealed too much in her embarrassment and let the conversation fall.

Teiran continued carefully across the platform to the ladder at the far end. She looked to Cassandra, “Up the ladder?” she asked, pointing up.

Cassandra nodded, climbing the first rung, “The tunnel should be just ahead. The path to the Temple lies beyond it.” She assured them.

Teiran, Varric and then Solas followed her up the ladder in turn.

At the top of the ladder was a simple wooden platform, much like the one below them and another ladder. Cassandra led them upwards without pause.

“What manner of tunnel is this?” Solas’ voice called from the back of the procession. “A mine?” he quarried.

For a moment, Teiran didn’t realize who was speaking. She had never heard Solas speak with an openly curious tone before, since he gave the impression there was little he didn’t know.

“Part of an old mining complex. These mountains are full of such paths.” Cassandra answered as she reached another platform, this one lead around the bend of the mountain rather than to another ladder.

“And your missing soldiers are in there somewhere?” Varric yelled, climbing the second ladder.

Smiling, Solas watched Varric climb the ladder and commented, “Along with whatever has detained them.”

“That’s it, Chuckles! Always looking on the bright side.” Varric called back down to him from the top of the ladder.

Solas shook his head amicably, starting his own climb up the second ladder.

“We shall see soon enough.” Cassandra declared from the top platform with Varric next to her.

Hesitating after reaching the second platform, Teiran had let Varric and Solas continue; now she kept to the center of the platform, her breathing deliberate, sucking in the frigid air swirling with snow.

She eyed the ladder: there were a lot of rungs and nothing but open air on either side; the platform was small and old. If she fell . . .

“Teirantala!” Cassandra called from above.

Closing her eyes and balling her fists, Teiran felt the wind blow all around her with nothing but the sheer drop of the cliff to slow it. The valley was far below them and the other mountain peaks were at eye level. Peaking at the ladder from under her lashes, the Dalish elf rationalized, _“It’s not that I’m afraid of heights per say, but this just seems like an accident waiting to happen.”_

Solas, Varric and Cassandra looked at each other, none knowing quite what to do. Finally, Varric slid down the ladder back to the elf on the second platform.

“Loner?” He asked, approaching her cautiously.

Teiran was staring transfixed at the ladder, muttering angrily to herself, _“_ Come on, you can do this. It’ll be alright, just get up there.”

Varric listened to her breathy voice for a moment, _“She’s afraid.”_ The dwarf laughed inwardly. He was accustomed to traveling with others who were used to the dangerous life-style of a hero, “ _Hawke is so fearless.”_

Blushing at the attention, Teiran forced herself to start up the ladder.

Varric followed a couple of rungs behind her.

The Dalish elf was mortified, but too scared to truly feel it yet. She knew it would hit her when she reached the top. But for now Teiran forced herself to focus on one rung at a time. She absolutely refused to allow her mind to process where she was or the feel of the strong wind pushing her from side to side.

When she reached the top, she couldn’t look at Solas or Cassandra. Teiran walked directly to the wall of stone the wooden planks were built into and continued around the bend of the mountain slowly, her hand running along the cold stone. She let her embarrassment wash over her and then begin to ebb.

Teiran had her eyes trained on the wood under her feet, when her hand flared. She breathed deeply, the pain sufficiently distracting her from any thoughts that didn’t include remaining upright.

Above her, the Breach echoed the flare loudly. She looked up at it when she had managed the pain in her hand. Teiran was reminded that she was somehow expected to conquer the swirling tornado. Being so close to the Breach, she realized just how much bigger than her it was. She felt particularly insignificant.

“Afraid of heights Loner?” Varric asked, appearing at her elbow.

Teiran forced her pain-tight muscles to relax and continued to stare at the Breach, “No. Afraid of falling.” She continued up the stairs, finding yet another ladder.

This ladder had a wide swath of solid wall behind it so Teiran climbed it without pause. She reached another wooden path skirting the opening of the tunnel leading into the mountain.

Cassandra and Solas followed Varric up to the last platform.

Cassandra stood before the stone arch that lead into the mine, peering into the darkness for any sign of movement.

Varric loaded his crossbow.

Solas walked over to one of the archway’s brackets, igniting the torch within. As he strode over to the bracket on the other side of the stone arc, he paused at the opening into the mountain. Solas stared into the dark beside Cassandra, something catching his attention.

Pulling herself from the awe-inspiring sight of the fog-ringed mountain peaks, Teiran came to stand next to Varric. With a flick of her fingers, she kindled a flame to life, suspending it above her palm.

Cassandra positioned her shield in front of her body and began their journey into the dark mine.

Following the warrior into the tunnel, Solas created barriers around the group, affording them not only protection, but also light. His turquoise barriers threw a faint, bluish hue on the stone around them, the wisps of magic circling each of them.

Teiran raised her flame above their heads, following a stride behind Solas with his torch. Varric was beside her with Bianca at the ready.

They followed the stone path up a flight of stairs, then around a stone pillar bearing a Chantry banner. Thick icicles hung from the wooden arches above them in the cavernous dark. The stone under their feet was cracked in places, ice filling in the cracks. Their breaths were small clouds before them.

They came to a balcony that suspended them above unfathomable depths with glittering stone and shining crystal in the walls _._ Solas’ torch and Teiran’s magic the only source of light in the chilly, abandoned dark.

Teiran looked between the sheer, clear ice and the purplish-black stone in the walls on either side of them, _“What could they have been mining here?”_

Passing another balcony, they came upon an open doorway. Cassandra leaned against the wall next to the door and listened intently. Cassandra gestured to Teiran, who followed the warrior into the small room.

Teiran poured magic into her flame, bringing more light into the room. Revealing bookshelves and a desk with dust-covered papers strewn about the small room. A study.

Cassandra remained in her defensive position when Teiran suddenly crossed the room and pulled a torch from its scone. Transferring her flame from her hand to the torch, Teiran brought it back to Cassandra. The light easily filled the whole room, revealing its emptiness.

Cassandra looked from the torch to the elf holding it. Teiran seemed very pleased with her discovery and Cassandra was aghast at her innocence. The elf was not yet the adventurer or soldier that Cassandra herself was and accustomed to traveling with; it reminded her of her younger days though she fervently prayed that she had never been quite so reckless. Without showing the slightest bit of this retrospection in her expression, Cassandra stoically took the torch from Teiran and handed it to Varric.

Varric immediately scanned the room, pushing the light into the corners of the study. His perceptive, rouge-trained eyes searched for danger or traps. Once satisfied, Varric handed the torch to Cassandra and positioned himself at the doorway into the study with Bianca ready, impatient to be off.

Cassandra searched the room for supplies, rummaging efficiently but leaving disorder in her wake.

Teiran made a mental note to be more cautious as it occurred to her that she had crossed a dark room without Cassandra’s protection to acquire a torch. At the very least, there could have been a trap that she would have fallen victim to. The young elf had traveled with her Dalish clan of course, but they had not been crawling through possibly demon-infested, abandoned mines. Suddenly grateful for her seasoned companions, Teiran realized she had a lot to learn.

His own torch held above his head, Solas flipped through the assortment of loose papers and books around the room, searching for anything of interest.

Teiran produced another flame above her palm and turned to the bookshelf, running her hands over the spines. She searched, moving from bookshelf to bookshelf, for something she had not already read or something that might contain elven lore.

When Teiran reached a high pile of books stacked on the floor, her left hand flared green below her orange flame. Surprised, she dropped the book she had been holding, causing a greater sound than any of them had made since entering the mine. Teiran blushed lightly.

Cassandra pulled her shield back in front of her, starting for the doorway with Solas trailing behind her. Teiran and Varric followed and they resumed their trek through the mine.

Holes in the ceiling illuminated a fine mist rising off the patches of frozen water in the floor. They traveled through the mine, lighting torches along the walls.

Occasionally, they paused so that Varric and Cassandra could search through the supplies left by the miners, finding material or coin. Solas would remain on guard as they did so, searching the darkness for enemies. After awhile, Teiran realized that she should probably be doing the same. She began to mimic Solas, staying alert and looking the other way so they could not be ambushed.

Solas noticed her imitation out of the corner of his eye, “ _The Dalish is at least aware of her ignorance.”_

Varric returned to the others with a pouch of gold coins that he handed over to Cassandra with a wink. She pocketed the coins and they continued up another stone staircase. As Cassandra put her foot on the last step at the top, she froze, crouching low behind her shield.

Solas lobbed his torch up and over their heads it clattered against the stone floor. The dying light revealing a shadowy figure with elongated arms and hooded face. Demons!

Solas reinstated their barriers then fired shards of ice magic at the demon, hitting his mark despite the sparse light.

Cassandra ran up the last step and took her stance in front of the torch on the ground, yelling defiantly into the dark. Claws raked across Cassandra’s shield.

Teiran remained on the last step, blindly firing balls of fire into the dim hallway.

Varric dodged Teiran’s magic and took aim at a Wright in the distance.

“Maker take you!” Cassandra shouted when another demon zeroed in on her, this one a Greater Shade.

Teiran aimed her lighting attack at the two demons trying to get past the warrior to the mages behind her shield.

Solas encased the Greater Shade in ice before focusing his attack on the lessor demon, helping Teiran bring it down quickly.

As soon as the Greater Shade thawed, Varric unleashed a round of arrows that hit their mark with deadly accuracy. It crumpled in defeat.

The four of them stood panting, listening for the sound of more enemies. None came.

Solas picked up the torch, rekindled it and handed it to Varric, who had dropped his own torch in the battle. Varric started towards a small stash of abandoned supplies.

Glancing up at the last set of stairs to their right, Teiran surmised this was the last staircase within the mine by the amount of light and fresh air gusting from it. Unable to keep herself away, she started up the stairs, leaving Solas and Cassandra to guard Varric while he rummaged, the stash too small to need both the dwarf and the warrior to inspect.

Halfway up the stairs, Teiran glimpsed the massive fir trees and the dirt path through the snow, her heart pounded, “ _They were almost outside_.” However, she remained inside the mine, favoring caution and pretending that scouting ahead had been her only motivation. She waited near the top of the stairs for the rest to follow.

Varric returned to Cassandra empty-handed and they joined Teiran on the stairs. When they exited the mine, their new path was littered with fresh corpses, all wearing scout armor identical to Teiran’s.

Teiran stepped cautiously around the dead, barely able to look at them. She focused on searching for whatever killed them.

Varric sighed in defeat, “Ah, guess we found our soldiers.”

Cassandra gazed about alertly, searching for survivors, “That cannot be all of them.”

“So the others could be holed up ahead?” Varric suggested hopefully, but with a slight emphasis on the word ‘could’.

Solas’ expression flattened, “Our priority must be the Breach. Unless we seal it soon, no one is safe.” The elf’s detached gaze rested upon the other three in turn. His stance was stiff as if he expected their dislike and disapproval of his opinion but was immovable.

Cassandra frowned at his coldhearted logic.

Solas bore Cassandra’s frown without a second thought. His gaze flicked to the next person, Teiran. He paused, not seeing the same disapproval.

Teiran’s eyes searched Solas’. Not in disbelief of what he had said, but attempting to pry the inner thoughts behind his words.

Solas remained unreadable and impassive. He turned to Varric, who didn’t meet his eyes.

Varric looked from Solas to Teiran, “I’m leaving _that_ to our elven friend with the glowing hand.”

Teiran started when she realized Varric was talking about her. Looking up, the Breach was almost directly overhead; they were so close.

Teiran shook her head, refocusing her thoughts, “We are going the same direction either way. Let’s hurry.”

They walked briskly down the barely-visible rocky, dirt path worn through the snow, following the low wall that ran parallel.

Ahead of them, a rift split the air. It expelled demons with every crackle of verdant magic. The quartet broke into a run.

“Lady Cassandra!” a voice carried across the chaos.

“Lieutenant! You’re alive!” Cassandra called back, relief saturating her voice. “Teirantala! You and Varric focus on the Wrights. Solas! With me.” Cassandra delegated. She ran past the Wrights to the courtyard beyond.

Solas Fade-stepped a stride behind Cassandra, already casting ice magic against enemies beyond the sight of the dwarf and Dalish left behind.

“Do you think you are babysitting me or the other way around Loner?” Varric called to Teiran. She sent sparks of lighting to the ghost-like demons, stunning and damaging them.

Teiran laughed, although it sounded more like a shallow pant, “The other way around. Though personally, I think I’m getting the hang of this.” She crouched into position and threw flash fire at the advancing Wright; it disappeared.

Varric laughed. When the last demon dissipated into ash, they both moved closer to the rift.

Her left palm extended, Teiran stepped towards the spiked-sphere hanging in the air. The rift responded by exploding into a clear sheet of magic with green lightening around its edges. The mark connected with the rift.

The mark caused the rift to condense into a tight ball. Teiran felt the magic flow through the void in her hand and she waited for the right moment to grab it. It moved faster. She felt she could hear as well as feel a tangible difference in the magic letting her know to disengage. She grabbed and pulled back, closing the rift. Teiran glanced from her left hand to where the rift had been. She had closed it and on the first try!

“Sealed, as before.” Solas appeared at her side, a tad breathless from the fight. She looked over at him and reflexively smiled, which he returned with a nod of his head.

“You are becoming quite proficient at this.” He complimented. She nodded and watched Varric approach from behind Solas.

“Let’s hope it works on the big one.” Varric reminded them. He gestured to the Breach.

Although she was looking at Varric, she noticed that Solas was still watching her, an unreadable expression on his face. She glanced back at him and noticed that the freckles across his cheeks were more visible, likely due to the cold and exertion.

Teiran sighed, _“Oh yeah. The Breach. That’s next.”_ She turned from Varric and Solas, towards Cassandra.

Cassandra pulled one of the injured scouts to her feet as they gushed gratefully, “Thank the Maker you finally arrived, Lady Cassandra.”

Teiran looked around at the exhausted, but alive, scouts. _“Wait, they called her Lady Cassandra.”_ Teiran realized her eyes flicking between the back of Cassandra’s head and the eye on her shield. _“Who is she?”_ Teiran speculated.

The scout continued, “I don’t think we could have held out much longer.”

Cassandra smiled, but turned around and gestured to Teiran, “Thank our prisoner, Lieutenant. She insisted we come this way.”

The scout questioned incredulously, “The prisoner? Then you . . .?” She looked Teiran up and down, her eyes lingering on Teiran’s pointed ears and the branch-like tattoos across her cheekbones.

Teiran bowed at the waist, “It was worth saving you if we could.” Teiran was filled with pride that her first act of leadership was to save lives.

“Then you have my sincere gratitude.” The scout replied, fist over heart.

Teiran beamed as she looked from the scout to Cassandra. Cassandra gave her a small smile before turning to the scout, “The way into the valley behind us is clear for the moment.” She pointed, “Go, while you still can.”

“At once.” The scout responded respectfully to Cassandra and with the same breath ordered a sharp command to her scouts, “Quickly, let’s move!” The remaining scouts traveled back up the path that Cassandra, Teiran, Solas and Varric had just traversed.

Solas had been watching the Breach during this exchange, his forehead pressed against his staff, but now he turned to Teiran, “The path ahead appears to be clear of demons as well.” He informed her as he passed his staff from one hand to the other.

Cassandra approached them, “Let’s hurry, before that changes.”

Teiran looked at them and realized they were watching her, waiting for her to lead. She bit her lip awkwardly and started down the rocky dirt path once again.

They followed Teiran downhill until they came to a ladder leading to a wooden platform, much like the ones going up into the mines, but now going down.

Cassandra directed, “Down the ladder. That’s the way to the Temple.”

Without pause, Varric stepped forward and slid down the ladder. Teiran took each rung one at a time, much to Cassandra’s dismay. Teiran heard her by now recognizable, “Ugh” from the top of the ladder.

Once Teiran reached the bottom, Solas and Cassandra slid down the ladder in record time. Varric was already at the bottom of the last ladder. Teiran knew she would have to slide too.

“How . . .?” She turned to Cassandra and Solas, unsure which to ask. Solas stepped towards the ladder, “Put your feet here and here, then your hands here. And fall.” He directed.

Teiran nodded and positioned her feet on the outside of the ladder, gripping the ladder tightly, then slowly relaxing her grip until she felt herself sailing through the air. Her feet hit the ground sooner than expected and she was thankful for the strong leather boots that kept her ankles from landing awkwardly and twisting. She looked back up at them, smiling shakily, but feeling accomplished.

Cassandra called down to her, “Move out of the way!”

Teiran jumped, moving clear of the ladder sheepishly. Cassandra and Solas were the two thumps behind her. She reached the next ladder, sliding down it as well.

Once they reached Varric at the bottom, they continued down the steep incline of the mountain, following the boarded path.

“So . . . holes in the Fade don’t just _accidentally_ happen, right?” Varric asked Solas as they descended.

Solas replied, “If enough magic is brought to bear, it _is_ possible.”

Teiran didn’t look up from the careful placement of her feet on the steep, snowy hill to see their facial expressions as she thought, _“Well, obviously it is possible since it did happen. Solas did say he was an expert concerning the Fade, why give an evasive answer?”_

Varric persisted, “But there are easier ways to make things explode.”

 _“Ah, Varric thinks the Veil was torn on purpose? Not just to destroy the Temple of Sacred Ashes, but that the Breach was the goal all along.”_ Teiran realized. She judged Varric’s observation to be a very astute one.

“That is true.” Solas said gravely.

Cassandra interrupted, effectively ending the speculation, “We will consider _how_ this happened once the immediate danger is past.”

Finally reaching level ground, they turned a corner and arrived at the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

At first, the swirls of green light from the Breach and the black, spiked pillars were all they could see through the mist and snow. Like defenses, the spikes were pointing away from their point of origin, which appeared to be circular.

“The Temple of Sacred Ashes.” Solas proclaimed detachedly.

Varric commented dispiritedly, “What’s left of it.”

They moved closer together, all silently taking in their surroundings. Upon closer inspection, they noticed that green veins of magic pulsed through the charcoal-colored spikes in the ruin.

Teiran was reminded of the spiked spheres that the rifts resembled before she used the mark to change them into something that more closely resembled liquid rather than solid.

They avoided the rubble, stepping around the stones that were thrown in the explosion. Circling the spikes, they searched for a way inside.

Cassandra paused and pointed at a piece of wall that was likely once a corner of a room, “That is where you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was.”

Teiran happened to be standing next to the spot Cassandra indicated. Pausing for only a glance, she moved on. She could not remember what happened and being here did nothing to remind her. It only grieved her to see such destruction.

Leading the group, Teiran slid down a pile of ash and saw a flame in the distance. Curious, she moved closer only to discover corpses, burnt alive and burning still. Their bodies were frozen in time, forever running away or shielding themselves from their inevitable demise. Teiran looked away from the suffering corpses and walked swiftly towards what appeared to be an entrance into the heart of the annihilation.

Cassandra’s expression turned to granite, but she followed stoically. Varric stared morosely at each corpse before following the Seeker.

Solas gripped his staff, for a moment unable to continue. He turned his back on them and looked out at the sea of bodies. He gave into his rage, guilt and grief as all those emotions shuddered through his body, moving from head to toe. And then he took a deep breath; and then another before he cleared his expression, replaced his mask. Slowly, he followed the others through the decimated hallway.

Teiran passed through the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes until she came to stand before the point of origin; where this nightmare all began. She stared at the massive rift in the flattened expanse before her. Magic was thick in the air. It swirled around the spiked rift and spiraled upwards into the sky.

“The Breach is a long way up.” Varric commented, moving to stand beside Cassandra with his head tilted all the way back to see into the Breach.

A voice called out behind them, “You’re here! Thank the Maker.” Leliana, equipped with a bow and white-feathered arrows, emerged from the sea of burning corpses. It was refreshing to see living, vital people after so much death.

 _“Oh, she’s an archer. And she came to fight.”_ Teiran realized.

Leliana stopped before Cassandra.

The Seeker issued commands tersely, “Leliana, have your men take up positions around the Temple.” Leliana nodded and returned to her soldiers to give more specific orders.

Cassandra turned back around to see all three of her companions standing and staring at the rift, clearly lost in their own thoughts.

Absorbed, Teiran despaired, _“How am I going to fix this?”_ The rubble to her left shifted, Solas came to stand next to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him gazing up at the Breach just as she was.

Cassandra stood in front of Teiran, blocking her view of the rift and demanding her attention. Teiran looked at her but she was clearly still coming out of her own thoughts.

Cassandra stared at her fiercely, “This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?”

Teiran looked into Cassandra’s determined, dark hazel eyes, her scarred face lending to her stature and the authority that rang in her every word and gesture.

The Dalish elf’s palms were sweaty. She was nervous and unsure, which was something she did not experience often. She wiped her hands on her pants and looked at the rift, “I’m not sure how to even start getting up to that thing.” Teiran admitted, her head tilting to the side, gesturing to the Breach.

Solas shook his head, gazing determinedly at the rift, “No. This rift was the first. And it is the key.” His tone assured in the accuracy of his evaluation.

Solas turned to Teiran, “Seal it. And perhaps we seal the Breach.”

Cassandra decided, “Then let’s find a way down. And be careful.” She turned to search for a path down to the rift.

Teiran, having no new knowledge to propose another course of action, went without argument. She looked between Cassandra and Solas as they led the group, “ _Sometimes I feel like I am being swept away in their plans.”_

They cautiously made their way through the ash and dirt.

A flash of white light blinded them. Then a voice resounded all around them, “Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice.” It seemed like a distant echo, but the richness of the voice simultaneously made it seem as if the speaker was standing close to them.

“What are we hearing?” Cassandra asked guardedly, as though she half-expected them to respond that they had not heard the voice.

Solas responded calmly, his expression etched in neutral concentration, “At a guess: the person who created the Breach.”

When the voice did not continue, the party restarted their trek. They circumvented the husked expanse, looking for a way down.

Leliana and Cassandra were deep in strategic conversation, occasionally calling out to archers to hold positions along the ledge above the rift.

Teiran could hardly look away from the rift to place her feet on the uneven ground. She unconsciously ran her fingers over her palm where the mark would appear when summoned.

Cassandra, Leliana, Varric, Solas, Teiran and the troops made their way cautiously and quietly along the ledge. Then they came upon sickeningly bright, red-colored slabs of rock pushing their way out of the wasteland as if they were flowering from under the ground. Unlike the spikes that surrounded the rift that appeared ordinary until they oscillated with magic, these gave off a permanent red glow that permeated the air around them.

“You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker.” Varric accused.

Cassandra responded wearily, there was little she could do about the danger, “I see it, Varric.”

“But what’s it _doing_ here?” Varric asked incredulously.

Curious, Teiran approached a small stone of the red lyrium that had broken away from the slabs that towered over her. She didn’t move to touch it, but she crouched down to get a better look at the glowing stone. To her, it resembled a hot coal.

Solas speculated grimly, “Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the Temple, corrupted it . . .”

“Gah! It’s evil.” Varric spat bitterly.

It was then Varric noticed Teiran’s proximity to it, he grabbed her shoulder in warning, “Whatever you do, don’t touch it.” He cautioned the group generally, although he was eye-level with the curious elf.

Teiran straightened and nodded in compliance with his warning, she was sufficiently convinced by the way the dwarf spoke of it.

The group continued around the ledge, avoiding the red lyrium and the debris when Leliana spotted a path that would lead down to the rift.

“Keep the sacrifice still.” The echoing voice thundered around them once again.

“Someone help me!” Another voice shouted.

All looked towards the rift at the sound of a new, disembodied voice.

Cassandra, her expression both hopeful and pained, exclaimed, “That is Divine Justinia’s voice!”

Leliana put a hand on Cassandra’s shoulder. They shared a moment of remembrance for the Divine then increased their pace, with everyone else keeping in step behind them.

Miraculously, a flight of stairs had survived the blast. Although they had to duck under a spiked pillar at one point, they descended into the blast area of the Breach. Leliana’s warriors surrounded Cassandra, awaiting her command.

The collection of humans, elves and their lone dwarf all approached the rift.

The mark flashed in response to the proximity, causing the rift to change shape, sprouting a new configuration of spikes. Teiran raised her hand in reflex and it flashed brightly.

“Someone help me!” The new voice sounded again, as if it were replaying.

An echo of Teiran’s fierce voice resonated from the rift, “What is going on here?”

Teiran’s jaw dropped, _“That’s my voice!”_

“That was your voice.” Cassandra was trying to make sense of everything, “Most Holy called out to you. But . . .”

The rift screeched above them and in a flash of white light, the green magic surrounding it congealed to show a black, shadowy figure and Divine Justinia. The Chantry priest was obviously restrained by circles of red magic.

Then, a ghostly image of Teiran approached the two, “What is going on here?”

The memory of Divine Justinia looked to Teiran’s likeness, “Run while you can! Warn them!” she pleaded bravely.

The shadowy figure’s red eyes gleamed as he fixed them on Teiran’s replica, “We have an intruder. Slay the elf!” He unfazed by the intruder, this was only a footnote in his plan.

The images disappeared in another flash of white light that temporarily blinded the party.

When they could see again, Cassandra called out to Teiran, “You _were_ there! Who attacked? And the Divine, is she . . .? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?” Cassandra fired each question without giving pause for an answer, her grief and frustration sharpening her tone. She came to stand in front of Teiran.

“Cassandra, I don’t remember!” Teiran snapped. Her expression furrowed, she was as frustrated with the lack of answers as the Seeker was; after all, she had just saw memories of herself doing things she couldn’t remember.

Solas left the two women in their standoff and approached the rift speculatively, “Echoes of what happened here. The Fade bleeds into this place.” He explained soothingly.

Cassandra approached Solas, with Teiran a pace behind her. Varric watched with Leliana from a distance.

Solas concentrated on his staff, touching it to his forehead as he considered how best to explain his assessment of the situation, “This rift is not sealed, but it is closed . . . albeit temporarily.”

He turned to face the pair and looked directly at Teiran, “I believe that with the mark, the rift can be opened” he pounded his staff into the ground to emphasize his declaration, “and then sealed properly and safely.”

“However,” his expression grew more serious, he looked at Cassandra, “opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”

“That means demons. Stand ready!” Cassandra shouted to the warriors near her and the archers on the ledge above them. The warriors drew their swords and formed a semi-circle between the rift and Cassandra. The archers on the ledge fit their arrows in the notch on their bows, pulling back and taking aim.

Varric pulled Bianca into position, running his hands fondly over the wood, muttering encouragingly to it. Solas moved next to Varric with a serene expression as he watched the others prepare.

Cassandra issued orders over her shoulder, “Varric! Solas! Go with Leliana to higher ground and attack while we keep the demons focused on us.” She indicated a plateau in a corner of the flat expanse surrounding the rift.

Cassandra turned to Teiran, “Join them after you open the rift and _stay alive_.”

Teiran stared at Cassandra with wide-eyes and nodded once, _“Did she really expect some of us to die?”_ Teiran looked around at the soldiers, Leliana, Varric and Solas. She shuddered at the thought and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. She breathed in and out.

Determinedly, she raised her palm to the rift. The rift sparked without connecting, pulling her a half step towards it. Teiran tried again.

The two connected and the magical fabric wound itself through her hand and back to the rift in a loop until the rift burst open. Teiran fell forward, unexpectedly released of the rift’s pull; she was accustomed to closing the rifts rather than the reverse.

A throaty roar pierced the air as a gigantic demon fell to the earth. Teiran scrambled back into a defensive pose, turning to see what had emerged from the rift. An armored titan with scales and horns stood before the warriors. Its talons sparked with purple electricity.

The Dalish elf stood transfixed, _“Oh no . . .”_ was the only thought that could wind its way past her gripping fear.

Staring down their foe, Cassandra raised her sword, “Now!” She bellowed. Arrows flew from the ledge and hit their mark.

The demon twisted for a moment in pain before growling defiantly at them.

Cassandra led the warriors in a coordinated dance with the behemoth as they alternately provoked it then retreated.

Instinctively, Teiran hurled bolts of flame at the demon when she felt a presence at her side; she raised her staff defensively before realizing it was Varric.

Varric glared at her, “What are you still doing down here?”

“Oh!” Teiran wheezed, humiliated.

Varric rolled his eyes and led her in a dash back to the higher ground, firing arrows as he ran.

They joined Solas and Leliana who were fully concentrated on their attack. Solas cast a barrier around their long-range group on the plateau. Then, he cast a second set of barriers on Cassandra and the other warriors before returning to a steady stream of ice missiles.

The demon laughed arrogantly and swiped at the warriors with his electric claws. Cassandra broke away from the front lines to yell at Solas and Teiran, the only two mages of the group, “We must strip its defenses! Wear it down!”

Teiran glanced at Solas between fireballs, hoping he had an idea of how to do that.

Solas caught her mystified gaze out of the corner of his eye, “Perhaps if we could disrupt its connection to the Fade . . .”

“How?” Teiran swiftly replied.

“Use the mark.” Leliana suggested.

“We’d have to get closer.” Varric countered.

Teiran looked at the line of warriors: one collapsed and Cassandra dodged another whip of lighting. Teiran took off, running headlong for the Breach.

“Wait for—shit!” Varric responded, tearing after her with Solas following him.

Teiran approached the spiked rift and threw her palm out. She felt her grappling hook of magic catch and pull at the rift before it raced through the fissure in her hand. Her breath caught, she felt another tear at the corners, the massive rift cutting the mark’s edges as it gained speed.

The rift exploded in a burst of magic that brought the demon to its knees and allowed the warriors to attack. A volley of arrows pierced its dazed form.

Teiran smiled triumphantly, observing the dazed demon’s fall before walking back to the plateau, carelessly turning her back to the rift.

“Watch out!” Leliana’s voice called to them. She fired an arrow at something behind Teiran.

Teiran looked back over her shoulder to see a demon encased in ice with an arrow sticking out of its chest. Judging where she had been, she did not like to think what would have happened to her if the demon could move.

Two more demons spilled from the rift, Teiran attacked with electricity while retreating with Varric and Solas.

Cassandra’s voice rang above the fighting, “More coming through the rift!”

Varric, Leliana, Solas and Teiran demolished the smaller demons before they could reach the warriors and then collectively moved closer to the rift so Teiran could use the mark a second time.

Cassandra rolled to the side, dodging the demon’s lighting attack; she noticed their plan, “Do it!”

Teiran moved into position and held her palm up once more, tearing into the rift and weakening it. The demon was on its knees again and this time, it did not rise. Frozen in places, one hand on fire and full of bloody holes and arrows, the demon slumped to the ground, which shook with the weight.

Cassandra barely paused for breath before shouting, “Now! Seal the rift!”

Teiran was already sparking a connection between the mark and the rift, straining to hold on to the swirling magic that flowed through her hand. She listened and waited for the right sound, for it to be moving at the right speed to seize it. However, this rift truly was massive and she was tiring. Teiran ground her teeth and glared defiantly at the green magic. Finally, the connection hummed and she sealed the rift with a jerk of her arm.

Solas watched Teiran seal the rift, the realization of the path he was on finally sinking in. “ _They would have to wait.”_ He admitted to himself sadly.

The tornado of magic retreated into the sky.

Teiran realized her knees were being stabbed by debris. Stubbornly, she continued to watch the magic ascended into the sky rather than assess her physical state.

She blinked and heard the explosion when it made contact high above her. Belatedly realizing she had forgotten to open her eyes after blinking. She experienced the blinding white light with already closed eyes.

Her hand ached. Was there something under her chin? Were her eyes open?


	10. Spying in the Fade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas spies on Teiran's dreaming in the Fade to satisfy his own curiosity. We meet her parents and her brother in the process.
> 
> Me: "Teiran, look how cute and ornery you were as a little kid."
> 
> Teiran, blushing: "Is this really necessary?"
> 
> Me: "Absolutely."

“I think she’s asleep.” Her mother’s voice whispered above her. Loath to leave the crook of her mother’s arm, Teiran whined stubbornly in disagreement and opened her azure eyes.

Her father’s full, white Sylaise tattoo against his tan skin was visible even in the dim light of the dying fire. His face filled Teiran’s sleepy vision. “Time for bed.” Eolaselan agreed.

But Teiran’s petulant voice, croaky from dosing off, rang out around the campfire, “No! The wolf story again.” She demanded.

Soft, indulgent laughter flowed from the rest of the elves around the fire. Some glanced at the woman whose appearance differed from the rest. Her clothes were made from different kinds of animals, a guest rather than a member of Clan Lavellan.

Eolaselan sat back and sighed deeply, “Ma da’len . . .”

Her mother’s quiet laughter vibrated against the side of her face.

A younger voice entered the conversation, “You know that’s not even what the story is about right?”

Teiran opened one eye to glare at her brother where he had spoken from across the fire. She sat up properly and stuck her tongue out at him.

Ivun contorted his face exaggeratedly at her, his Sylaise tattoo crumpling in on itself as he did. She stared at the dark green marks over her brother’s left eye. It was still strange to see it on him even if his was a simpler version of their fathers; marks she had known all her life.

Looking up and pushing her mother’s dark brown hair out of her face, Teiran begged, “Please mamae?”

Shenuvuna looked across the circle of elves to their guest, who closed her eyes and nodded in agreement without hesitation. Shenuvuna smiled, she hadn’t expected resistance. It was a popular tale, even if her daughter had focused on a minor aspect.

“Galloping together, between the trees planted in their honor, the Emerald Knights pounded through the Dales. Astride their halla, these were the warriors who protected our promised lands without fail.” The elf began, her voice falling into the entrancing rhythm of an experienced storyteller.

The young elf unintentionally fell asleep, lulled by the voice and her mother’s warm embrace.

“ . . . And so the warrior had proven herself worthy of joining the Emerald Knights. Through her bravery and cunning she had saved her Clan from destruction and their halla returned to them; she took her place among the great protectors.”

Waking just in time for the part of the tale she most wanted to hear, Teiran stared at the storyteller over the dying fire.

“In a grand ceremony they planted her tree, one of oak in remembrance of her humble beginnings. As was tradition, the Grand Knight presented her with a wolf cub and her very own halla. Mythalen became a true Emerald Knight.” The storyteller smiled mischievously.

“Many moons passed and as Mythalen grew into her strength as an Emerald Knight, so did her bond with her tala. Mythalen was seldom seen without her silver wolf, who followed her every step, ran next to her halla as she rode into battle and slept next to her every night. Together the duo fought for justice and peace within the Dales.” The storyteller finished with a flourish, she had embellished the wolf parts for Teiran’s sake and was rewarded with a look of adoration from the small elf.

Standing and stretching, Eolasen glanced around at the faces around him. Ivun got slowly to his feet, leaving the adolescent section of the circle to stand beside his father.

Eolasen reached for Teiran. Shenuvuna handed their youngest to him and stood herself, “Ma serannas. Son era.” (“Thank you. Sleep well.”)

Shenuvuna lead the way to their tent as the other adults began whispering to each other over the fire, exchanging gossip and plans for their travels. She tousled her son’s golden hair; she could scarcely believe he was practically an adult.

Eolasen inhaled the scent of rain on the wind whistling through the Emerald Graves. He scanned the darkness out of habit rather than suspicion of danger. His youngest was tucked into his chest, her silvery hair visible in the dark. He wished the canine companions of the Emerald Knights had not taken ahold of her imagination; the wolf was already linked so closely with Fen’Harel to the adult’s minds that he was unsure how long their indulgence would last. And he knew his daughter’s tenacious tendencies. As the only youngster currently in Clan Lavellan, the adults coddled her, but this would not last.

Shenuvuna, her blue Ghilan’nain valislin almost invisible in the darkness, held the tent flap aside while her family ducked inside. She followed them in and secured the flap at the top and bottom. Eolasen tucked Teiran under the blankets while Ivun settled into his bedroll on the far side of the tent to polish his bow. The family quickly fell asleep.

Solas dispersed the spirits, leaving Teiran lying in the vacant mist of the Fade. He watched the now adult Dalish elf with an annoyed expression before sighing and tried once more to lift the information from her dreams. He mentally nudged her in the right direction and called upon weak spirits who would happily take whatever form suggested.

“Teirantala!” Solas manipulated one of the spirits to call, as Teiran’s own mind supplied the image of a young human girl dressed in fine fabric.

Solas blended into the background taking shape, a forest on the edge of a human village. Teiran sat up, morphing back into a younger version of herself, although this one was distinctly older than before if not yet a young adult.

Teiran turned around to see Caitlyn waving and running towards her. She stopped and waited for her friend, a small smile on her face.

Caitlyn threw her arms around her shoulders and panted dramatically. “I found that book!” she proclaimed. She shoved it into Teiran’s hands.

Teiran returned the embrace and squealed, “Ma serannas, Cait!” Teiran held the book aloft as if she were wielding a sword. The two girls clung to each other and giggled carelessly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then. I can’t wait to talk to you about-” Teiran clamped her hand over Caitlyn’s mouth.

Teiran replied, shoving her friend back towards the village, “No! Don’t tell me anything. Go! I’ll see you.”

Caitlyn laughed, waved at Teiran then flew back down the hill. Teiran gave her friend a half-smile before glancing down at the book. She began reading the title as she entered the forest.

“Teiran _tala_ huh?” Ivun’s voice preceded his appearance from behind a tree. Teiran jumped, dropping her book.

“Ivun! Ugh. Do you _have_ to do that?” Teiran shot back at him with a glare. She retrieved the book, brushing the dirt off the leather cover.

 Ivun crossed his arms and ignored her, “What’s with the addition to your name Teiran?” he asked pointedly.

“Do you like it?” Teiran gushed. “It’s like I’m taking a tala with me wherever I go. Ya know, protection against the shemlens. Like the Knights!” she enthused.        

“Teiran . . .” Ivun sighed before leading the way back to camp. Teiran’s shorter legs hurried to keep pace with her adult brother’s pace.

Ivun teased her, “You know you are friends with a shem, right Teiran?”

“Yes! Not all shemlens are bad, Ivun. But you still have to have protection against the mean ones.” Teiran explained pompously.

Solas smirked, watching the siblings disappear into the forest. Then, he turned away from them, continuing his own wanderings in the Fade, now that his curiosity was satisfied. Solas left Teiran to dream.


	11. While You Were Sleeping in Haven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The advisors and Cassandra are preparing for the Inquisition before the Herald wakes up. Get to see the group before we add the Dalish elf to the mix.

Josephine scanned the list she had just finished composing. “Banners, helmets, seals . . .” she muttered as her finger glided down the list. Cassandra, Leliana and Cullen waited for her to finish.

Cullen’s resolute eyes roamed from one piece to the other on their map. Each piece marking decisions they needed to make, but had not yet agreed upon a course of action. The lines on his brow deepened when he remembered the extended arguments surrounding them; they were all convinced of their own opposing opinions.

Leliana leaned against the wall in the corner of the room, quietly reading a report. She was drawn to this spot in the room, feeling safe from knives and prying eyes with a wall on either side of her shoulder, even if there was no reason to feel this way among her current companions. She had already vetted each one thoroughly.

Pacing slowly, Cassandra wore circles in the floor on her side of the table. Her patience was short as of late: she hadn’t slept soundly since returning from the Temple two days ago, every small noise rousing her from slumber.

Glaring at the walls, her mind continued down the same track of information it had all through the nights: Teiran had proved that the mark on her hand was the key to restoring Thedas and now she might be lost. If the strain of sealing the Breach wasn’t enough to end her, an assassin might sneak past their defenses and kill her while she recovered.

Solas voice echoed in Cassandra’s memory, _“To close the Breach permanently, you will need to match the amount of power used to create it initially.”_ Cassandra sighed, frustrated by the lack of action to secure that power.

Folding her arms, Leliana re-rolled the scroll penned by Scout Harding and stared thoughtfully at the maps.

Josephine, still absorbed behind her clipboard, announced to the quietly tense room, “I believe this list is sufficient, considering what we have to work with. The Inquisition will at least have some soldiers bearing our crest and an official seal to authenticate documents.”

Although pleased with this information, Leliana remained externally impassive.

The two warriors, on the other hand, were not overly concerned with public appearance.

Josephine peaked up from her clipboard to look around at her companions when none voiced approval; she read the disinterest in most of their faces. “We are a fledgling network, we must be concerned about our appearance—”

“We understand, Lady Montilyet.” Cassandra interrupted.

Leliana attempted to gloss over the difference of opinions, “Josie, we simply are not overjoyed. Your work will identify us in our endeavors and we understand its importance even if we don’t share your enthusiasm.”

Cullen cleared his throat, “So, um. I will distribute the new armor to our more seasoned soldiers—replacing the Templar symbols mostly—at once Josephine. Until more can be procured that is.” He added, effectively ending the tiff.

However, Josephine had never appeared ruffled in the slightest by the exchange with Cassandra. Instead she lowered her clipboard and addressed Cassandra kindly, “Are there any updates from Adan?”

Cassandra answered, “The alchemist? Ugh. He was complaining about his talents being wasted as a healer and demanding a Templar guard in case demons suddenly spring from the mark last I saw him. But he did mention that the Herald was improving. Solas seems to agree with him.”

Tilting her head, Josephine followed up with a question, “Speaking of which, does Solas intend to remain with us?”

Cassandra and Leliana exchanged opinions with a glance.

Leliana answered, “He has made no arrangements to leave and seems committed to our cause, if only to remain close to the mark.”

“Solas was also a great help in closing the Breach.” Cassandra added.

Josephine looked to Cullen, who answered the unspoken question, “We have yet to turn any new recruit away, regardless of where they came from.”

Scribbling on her clipboard, Josephine spoke with finality, “Well, I think that concludes all new business for now.”

The others moved, fidgeted, and then slowly took turns exiting the room.

In the hallway outside of the map room, a Chantry sister waited beside Josephine’s door. The priestess was holding a large banner bearing an emblem of an eye with a dagger. Josephine broke away from the group and began chatting animatedly with the priest, obviously admiring her work.

Cassandra, Leliana and Cullen made it out into the bracing, evening air without being waylaid. The three stared silently at the sealed Breach, each absorbed in their own thoughts.

Looking over at Cassandra, Cullen broke the moment of reverie with a hand on her shoulder, “Get some sleep tonight Cassandra. Solas has been successful in keeping her alive thus far. And I’ve posted some of my best men outside the door. Maker willing, you’ll be out closing rifts around Thedas in a few days time.”

Cassandra nodded, grateful for the concern, but also displeased that she was so transparent. Being bound helpless to Haven while demons poured from rifts all over Thedas was gnawing at her. Cassandra hoped that Cullen, being a fellow warrior, was simply more perceptive than most.

Cullen gave Cassandra a quick half-smile and bid them farewell, making his way over to the Quartermaster.

Leliana and Cassandra watched the Commander issue directions while Threnn scribbled names down on a scrap of paper, nodding earnestly.

Leliana looked at Cassandra then back to the sky, slyly moving towards Cassandra although appearing to only shift her weight. She clasped her hands behind her back, “You know, at this rate, the elf has spent more time in Haven unconscious than not.”

Cassandra harrumphed, but smiled as she glanced back at Leliana. The two had worked together for so long, the hands of the Divine. Now they were carrying on the Divine’s work, her directive, without her, without their center and leader. This vacancy made Cassandra as restless as her geographical limitations.

The two women stood side by side for a long while, watching Haven bustle around them. Change was coming, the flurry of activity seemed to say, a beginning.


	12. The Brown Cabin and the Lackluster Outfit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We made it back to Haven!! Now the Herald is up and about to discover her new title.
> 
> Teiran: "Look! I have friends."
> 
> Me: "You have people who keep you alive, yes."
> 
> Teiran, eating blackberries: "Yeah, friends."
> 
> Me: Sigh. "Sure."

When Teiran awoke, she focused on the unfamiliar ceiling above her, trying to process where she might be: her mind sifted through a haze of green magic, new faces, strange names and unfamiliar voices. Turning her head to examine her physical surroundings, the fabric under her head and on her body was as foreign as the swirl of memories she recalled.

Brown, everything was brown: walls, ceiling, and furniture. All carved from wood then adorned with brown animal skins. “ _Where am I?”_

The door opened and closed, catching her attention.

A young elf strolled into the room carrying a wooden box. When Teiran moved, the elf inhaled sharply and dropped the box. It crashed to the floor. “Oh!” the young elf cried.

Teiran bolted upright, immediately regretting the sudden movement. The blood rushed to her head. She frowned through the dizziness, a hand to her temple.

The young elf stammered fearfully, backing away cautiously, “I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!”

Tucking the piece of hair falling into her eyes behind her ear, Teiran instinctively tried to soothe the young elf’s fear by finding its source, “Why are you frightened?”

In the moment of asking the question, Teiran’s mind pieced together her situation: everything from waking up in chains in the dungeon to the flash of white light from the rift. Her tone turned intense, “What happened?”

Her intensity startled the young elf and she responded with confusion, “That’s wrong isn’t it? I said the wrong thing.”

Teiran tilted her head to the side, caught off guard by the lack of answer and extreme concern the elf exhibited; the young elf was shaking in her boots. “I don’t think so—?” Teiran said.

An expression of anguish on her face, the young elf threw herself onto her hands and knees before Teiran.

Teiran flung the bed sheets off of her, rushing to see what had caused such a reaction when the young elf spoke rapidly, “I beg your forgiveness and your blessing!”

Pausing as if shot by the words, Teiran’s feet hovered above the floor. She processed what was being said to her, staring blankly.

The young elf continued with her head bowed, “I am but a humble servant.”

Without looking up the young servant persisted in her skittish reverence, “You’re back in Haven, my lady. They say you saved us.”

Her left palm turned to ice, then tore open. Looking down at the soft flash of light, the green magic flashed on Teiran’s face and white hair hanging past her shoulders. It was just a prick, barely even painful.

The young servant glanced up at the crackling sound, but quickly bowed her head when Teiran looked back at her, “The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days.”

“Then, we’re safe?” Teiran asked; it seemed a logical conclusion from the information she had, but Teiran still could not place the source of the young elf’s apprehension.

The young servant answered without raising her head, “The Breach is still in the sky but that’s what they say.”

A thought occurred to the young elf. She sprung from the floor, wringing her hands and moving towards the door, “I’m certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you’ve wakened. She said ‘at once’!”

 _“Cassandra.”_ Teiran thought in relief, “Where is she?” Teiran lowered her feet to the floor and stood up, taking a couple of steps towards the other elf.

The young elf glanced at Teiran’s approaching feet and hurriedly stepped back to maintain the distance between them.

Teiran froze, lips pursed in a small ‘o’. _“She’s afraid of me.”_

The young servant seemed to become even more frightened by the flash of realization in Teiran’s eyes. She broke into a run out the door, answering over her shoulder, “In the Chantry. With the Lord Chancellor. ‘At once,’ she said.” The door closed behind her.

Teiran was left alone in the brown room.

She threw her hands up in frustration and paced furiously, her hair whipping from side to side with each turn, _“What is it about me that has everyone in Haven either making me their prisoner or running away in fear?”_

Her left palm felt cool. Looking down, it glowing in a pale line from under her index finger to her wrist. Teiran’s eyes drifted from her palm to her arm, to her torso, to her legs, _“What am I wearing?”_

Her face turned red, _“And who removed my clothes to put these on?”_

Waiting for the embarrassment to pass, Teiran rationalized: she was thankful for the change of clothes and washed skin. She objectively studied the beige long-sleeved shirt and light gray pants, both tailored to her measurements until the red in her face faded to pink.

Then her perceptive eyes roamed the brown room, noticing the beautiful painting above the bed that depicted fog covered forests and mountains. It was a splash of color in the monochrome room. From the painting her thoughts turned to the window in the room. However, she could hardly see outside due to the back of a soldier blocking almost the entirety of the frame. _“Still a prisoner? Huh, that da’len seemed to imply that they were happy with the Breach being sealed.”_

She paced, scanning the room while finger-combing her hair into a high bun. She found mugs, a caged crow, ink and candles, but nothing of interest until she spied a solitary piece of unrolled parchment on a table.

She dropped her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders. She read the note without touching it: “Vain hope: Someone better at this than me takes over before the survivor expires. Notes just in case.” Her eyebrows shot upwards, _“This is about me.”_

Bringing the parchment up to her face, she continued reading, certain phrases catching her attention: “Shallow breathing. Not responsive. Pupils dilated. Mage says her scarring ‘mark’ is thrumming with unknown magic. Wish we could station a Templar here, just in case . . . A lot of thrashing. Mutters about too many eyes . . . Two attempts by locals to break into Chantry and kill my patient.”

Teiran scowled, _“People were trying to kill her?”_

She put the notes back on the table, _“A mage talking about her mark, that must be Solas. Huh, I’ll have to thank him for keeping the mark from killing me again I suppose.”_

Starting towards the door of the brown cabin, Teiran realized that she was barefoot. She wheeled around, searching for some sort of covering when she noticed a pair of white boots cut from the same type of fabric as the rest of her lackluster outfit. She hastily pulled them on, eager to talk to someone and discover the full extent of the situation.

Bending down to lace her boots, she tucked her hair behind her ears again. Teiran sighed and scanned the room again, looking for a strip of fabric or leather to tie it up. About to give up on her search, she noticed a small cloth bag tied with a leather sting sitting atop the table near the door. Moving closer, deciding whether or not to take it, she noticed a small piece of paper underneath the bag.

“Loner, wake up already.” The note read, the script elegant but efficient. _“Varric. Hmm, his script is beautiful.”_ Teiran smiled, untying the bundle to reveal a small pile of blackberries.

Without hurry, Teiran reconstructed her bun with practiced motions. It was a familiar routine in this strange room with her strange clothes and even stranger green mark.

With the berries in one hand, she plopped three into her mouth. Chewing happily, she was absorbed in grateful thoughts of her new friends who acted to keep her alive and fed.

Too absorbed to actually consider the excited, loud buzzing conversations coming from outside the door. Until she stepped outside to find a horde of humans with every face turned towards her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up is the Solas POV


	13. Their New Deity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We need a new POV occasionally, particularly when it's not a very interesting scene from Teiran's POV. So this gave me a chance to live inside Solas' mind.
> 
> Solas: "I disapprove of Haven generally. When do we leave?"
> 
> Me: "Soon. Be nice."
> 
> Solas rolls his eyes and disappears to find something better to do.

Solas’ mind was elsewhere. His feet traced the familiar path from his quarters to the cabin where he had spent most of the past two days. Repressing the thought of spending another day alongside the haughty alchemist, Solas reviewed his recent trip to the Fade instead.

People were swirling about him. Typically they avoided him, saving Solas the trouble of bringing his mind to the present long enough to be the one to move aside when they passed each other.

However, this morning Solas became aware of a silence replacing the usual bustle; a pause in the rhythm of Haven. Chantry priests and villagers swarmed the edges of the dirt path worn through the snow, staring. Haven’s soldiers guarded the path, keeping it clear of people, forming a line that wound its way through the village back to the Chantry’s doors.

Solas pulled himself back to his surroundings and looked about, noticing the scene and easily discovering its cause. Teiran had woken up, although her expression seemed close to someone who wondered if they were dreaming or not. Solas blended into the crowd of onlookers, watching the scene from under the mabari statue.

Teiran cautiously approached the two guards nearest her, their arms over their chest in salute. Teiran pocketed a bundle of fabric, wiped her palms on her pants, straightened her back and held her head up levelly. Then her eyes turned upwards, she seemed to completely forget her surroundings when she saw the Breach still floating ominously, but no longer resembling a tornado.

Even from here, Solas could see the play of confusion and frustration in Teiran’s face. Then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her body refocusing down to her toes. When she opened her eyes and looked back out at the crowd, she had regained her straight back and impassive face.

This amused Solas. With his current estimation of her, Solas supposed that she intended a neutral expression as she traveled through the crowd. However he felt the people around him react to it differently and even he admitted that it appeared closer to an imperial rather than neutral expression.

 _“In a way, it is befitting of the situation,”_ Solas thought, “ _an imperious expression befitting both the worship and fear supplicants should display upon beholding their new deity.”_ An uncomfortable memory skirted Solas’ consciousness, his imagination overlaying the elf before him making her way through the crowd with another elven deity: a graceful image of trailing fabric supporting a woven crown.

Solas dismissed the past easily, focusing on the ownership stamped across Teiran’s face and the lack of fluidity in her gait. He shifted his weight, feeling the slush of snow between his cold toes. Teiran was approaching the section of the crowd he hid amongst.

Solas’ calculating mind flashed back to when he had flattered her, exalting her as the very key to their salvation. And she had dismissed him, asserting that it was not her doing, but the mark on her hand. Solas knew how to effectively curry favor and he had been impressed by her rebuffs. _“No, she must mean it as a neutral expression”,_ he concluded, his eyes following her progression through the crowd.

“That’s her. That’s the Herald of Andraste. They said when she came out of the Fade, Andraste herself was watching over her.” A villager spoke in a normal volume to the Chantry priest next to Solas, the veneration carrying farther in the charged silence. Solas observed Teiran spook at the sound of the voice, pause stiffly, her regal expression never wavering.

“Hush. We shouldn’t disturb her.” The other answered maternally. Teiran increased her pace then, never looking into the crowd, keeping her eyes on the walls above their heads. An impressive feat that thrust her chin in the air to see over the mostly humans who were taller than her.

Solas watched as she mounted the steps with the mabari statues on each side, the soldier in front of him whispering to his comrade, “Why did Lady Cassandra have her in chains? I thought Seekers knew everything.”

Solas hid his sardonic smile at their foolishness by looking down at the snow. The more sensible companion answered, “It’s complicated. We were all frightened after the explosion at the Conclave.”

“It isn’t complicated. Andraste herself blessed her!” the first solider argued. Solas sighed, watching the crowd mount the steps in an attempt to follow Teiran all the way to the Chantry’s door.

Breaking away from the worshipers when they passed the tavern, Solas climbed the steps towards the alchemist’s lair. Veering into the cabin to the left at the top of the stairs, he entered his shared quarters to find himself alone. He hurried to his cot, already deciding where he would visit in the Fade and whom he would seek out.


	14. Welcome to the Inquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teiran wakes up in Haven once again, Cassandra declares the Inquisition Reborn and Leliana sends Teiran around Haven with a familiar escort.
> 
> Harritt: Yeah, I met her. Asks too many questions, but good taste in armor.
> 
> Me: *internal* Teiran knows nothing of armor
> 
> Me: Yep, she loves your good quality armor because she recognizes it as such.

 “Blessings upon you, Herald of Andraste!” someone called out to Teiran.

She sped past them.

Trying to remain calm, she followed the path designed by the soldiers on either side of her. She simply recorded what was being said to her, refusing to process any of it. She would reserve judgment of the situation until she got more information. “ _I just have to make it to Cassandra.”_ she reassured herself with reminders of the Seeker’s direct and honest disposition. Cassandra would tell her the truth of what she was seeing in the faces and voices around her.

Coming within view of heavy, double doors marked with their characteristic sun stretching across, Teiran finally reached the Chantry.

“Go in peace, Herald of Andraste.” One of the Chantry priests whispered to her.

Teiran pushed the doors open without even glancing at the priest.

Once Teiran entered the solitude the Chantry provided, she immediately turned around and pushed the closing doors behind her. Forcing them to move faster and shut out the buzz of the people on the other side. The Dalish elf took a deep breath, covering her face.

Only candles ringed the long hallway and the silence was blissful after all the confusion.

Beginning to pace rapidly, her mind unintentionally processed it all: _“A herald? Of Andraste?”_ She wondered, a deep sense of disquiet at the thought. They meant it as a compliment, but she was horrified at the idea of becoming a religious figure.

“Have you gone completely mad?” a harsh voice questioned, breaking the silence.

Reflexively, Teiran startled at the sound and her mind answered automatically, _“Me? Maybe.”_ Shaking her head at her reactions, both mental and physical, she moved closer to the door at the end of the hallway where the voice originated.

“She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Divine!” The voice continued. By the end of his sentence, Teiran had put a face to the voice: Chancellor Roderick. The corners of her mouth pulled downward and her gaze narrowed.

“I do not believe she is guilty.” Cassandra countered, speaking slowly and deliberately, lending a certainty to her words.

Teiran padded quietly across the red carpet runner and approached the door, listening.

“The elf failed, Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky. For all you know, she intended it this way!” He accused smugly.

Teiran’s stomach dropped. She recalled the green scar in the sky she had seen on her way here. _“Well, I tried. That’s more than the Chantry can say! If it weren’t for Cassandra pushing past you on the mountain we wouldn’t even have that much!”_ Still, her pride was wounded. She thought she had heroically saved the day.

“I do not believe that.” Cassandra asserted in the same certain tone.

Speaking through his teeth, Chancellor Roderick continued, “That is not for you to decide.” Then abruptly, his tone changed to patronizing, “Your duty is to serve the Chantry.”

“My duty is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor. As is yours.” Cassandra declared nobly.

Teiran decided that she had learned enough to enter into the disagreement. She pushed the iron and wood door aside, revealing a small, stone room with a map-strewn table at its center. Metal clicked on either side of her as the two Templars guarding the entrance, turned to look at her.

Chancellor Roderick, pointing at Teiran, commanded, “Chain her. I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial.”

Glaring at him, Teiran had no intention of being a prisoner again. Her hands sparked: a mixture of purple lightening with the green mark following like an afterthought.

Cassandra diffused the situation calmly. “Disregard that. And leave us.” Pushing off the table she had been leaning across, Cassandra stood tall with Leliana’s crossed arms and deadly stare beside her.

The Templars did not hesitate. They placed their fist over their chest in salute and closed the door on their way out.

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker.” Chancellor Roderick threatened, ignoring the elf.

Staring him down, Cassandra moved in front of him, “The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it.”

Teiran stepped forward, “I did everything I could to close the Breach. And it almost killed me!”

The Chancellor turned on Teiran, “And yet you live. A convenient result, insofar as you’re concerned.”

“Have a care, Chancellor.” Cassandra hinted, “The Breach is not the only threat we face.”

Leliana came to stand by Cassandra’s other side, gazing coolly at the Chancellor, “Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others—or have allies who yet live.” She deliberately frowned suspiciously.

Chancellor Roderick fumbled, taken completely aback, “ _I_ am a suspect?”

“You. And many others.” Leliana confirmed vaguely, searching for hidden meaning in his expression.

“But _not_ the prisoner?” Chancellor Roderick threw a scowl of disgust at Teiran, who responded with a withering stare.

Cassandra substantiated her claim with unwavering confidence, “I heard the voices in the Temple. The Divine called to her for help.”

The Chancellor’s gaze moved incredulously from Cassandra to Teiran to the mark on her left hand, “So her survival. That _thing_ on her hand—all a coincidence?”

Cassandra looked to Teiran with a touch of hope lighting her face, “Providence. The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.”

Teiran’s stomach hit her toes, “ _Oh no. Not Cassandra too.”_ Now all three were watching her, waiting for her response to Cassandra’s statement.

The elf swallowed, glancing down at her hand and back up, meeting Cassandra’s gaze, “I am not a ‘Chosen One’, Cassandra.” Teiran saw a stiffening of the Seeker’s features. “I’m sorry.” She added quietly. Shifting her weight from foot to foot, she broke the stunned silence, “Besides, a Dalish elf the savior of the Maker?”

“I have not forgotten you are Dalish, Teirantala. No matter what you are, or what you believe, you are exactly what we needed when we needed it.” Cassandra insisted, turning away from them and retrieving something from the back of the room.

Leliana watched for Teiran’s reaction, “The Breach remains. And your mark is still our only hope of closing it.” _“If she will not be swayed by faith, perhaps logic will sway her.”_ Leliana added this piece of information to her growing knowledge of the Herald of Andraste

Chancellor Roderick puffed, “This is _not_ for you to decide.”

Cassandra rejoined them, slamming a thick, leather and iron bound book with a large symbol on its reddish-brown cover. Teiran squinted at the symbol from her position, it was upside-down, but she could tell that it was a sun with an eye at its center. In fact, she thought the sun looked identical to the one the Chantry used.

Cassandra effortlessly commandeered their attention, “You know what this is Chancellor. A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act.” Cassandra filled the room with undeniable authority. She glanced at Leliana then looked directly at Teiran, “As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.”

Cassandra advanced upon Chancellor Roderick, “We will close the Breach. We will find those responsible. And we will restore order. With or without your approval.”

Chancellor Roderick and Teiran were both stunned speechless. The Chancellor fled from the room. Teiran watched Cassandra admiringly.

Seeker Pentaghast, on the other hand, ran her hands through her hair self-consciously, as if she believed she had acted rashly but without regret.

Leliana turned to stand before the book placed upon the table. Her voice reminded Teiran of a storyteller, threading inspiration through her narrative, “This is the Divine’s directive: Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos.”

Cassandra and Teiran unconsciously gravitated towards her, caught in the emotion of the dramatic tale that had somehow become their reality, “We aren’t ready. We have no leader. No numbers. And now, no Chantry support.”

Cassandra’s voice took up the tale, “But we have no choice. We must act now. With you at our side.” The two women passed the thread to Teiran.

Teiran bit her lip, unwilling to commit without gaining a clearer view of their intentions, “I want to help, but . . . are you are trying to start some sort of . . . holy war?”

Cassandra answered plainly, “ _We_ are already at war. _You_ are already involved. Its mark is upon you. As to whether this war is holy… that depends on what we discover.”

Teiran could live with that answer, for now.

Curious about the foundation of the organization they wanted her to pledge allegiance, Teiran pressed, “What is 'the Inquisition of old,’ exactly?”

Leliana, still sounding like a bard answered, “It preceded the Chantry: people who banded together to restore order in a world gone mad.”

Cassandra finished, “After, they laid down their banner and formed the Templar Order. But the Templars have lost their way. We need those who can do what must be done united under a single banner once more.”

“And the Chantry?” Teiran speculated, already feeling her acceptance and thinking about their possible next steps.

Leliana sensed her change in mind, “The Chantry will take time to find a new Divine and then it will wait for her direction.”

Cassandra misread Teiran’s vague question to indicate a desire for Chantry support, “But _we_ cannot wait. So many grand clerics died at the Conclave . . . No. We are on our own. Perhaps forever.”

“If you are truly trying to restore order . . . ” Teiran said.

Leliana nodded once, “That is the plan.”

Cassandra extended a hand to Teiran, “Help us fix this before it’s too late.”

The elf looked into the Seeker’s heroic, dark eyes.

Then the two women grasped hands and shook firmly.

Teiran nodded once, solemnly.

Cassandra gave her a small smile, feeling a stir of camaraderie in Teiran’s genuine commitment.

Leliana’s voice came from over Teiran’s shoulder, “Excellent. This way, Herald.”

The elf spun around to see the hooded redhead opening the door, waiting expectantly. Teiran’s brow wrinkled in puzzlement, _“Leliana moves so silently._ _What exactly is her role here?”_

Cassandra laughed at Leliana’s amused smile, knowing Leliana was pleased by Teiran’s mystified expression. “Go. I will gather Cullen and Josephine. Harritt should have her armor ready.” Cassandra added.

Leliana smiled slyly, “Lieutenant Gayles?”

Cassandra deliberated for only a moment, “Hm. You think of everything.”

Leliana nodded and strode out of the room. Teiran glanced back at Cassandra, but the woman was already pacing, deep in thought.

Teiran caught up with Leliana before she reached the double doors that lead out of the Chantry.

Leliana pushed the doors open and they exited the Chantry. The Lady Nightingale surveyed the area, seeking someone in the mill of soldiers and villagers going about their daily lives, bracing against the biting wind.

Teiran heard the flap of heavy fabric above her head. Looking up, she spied a brown banner displaying a dull-gold embroidered eye and a dagger. The symbol was identical to the one on the book Cassandra had slammed on the table just minutes ago.

Leliana frowned; she couldn’t see Threnn anywhere. Out of the corner of her eye, Leliana noticed the elf watching the banner fly in the wind, “Josephine is efficient. Did you think we were idle while you slept?” Leliana turned her sharp, arctic-blue eyes on Teiran.

Teiran met her gaze with wide, innocent eyes, “No. Who is Josephine?”

Leliana approached the small, circular group of tents with a cooking fire at its center. She answered softly, “You will meet her soon. She is the diplomatic arm of the Inquisition.”

When Leliana approached, the soldiers sitting around the large fire quickly came to stand at attention. It was a few moments before one bravely approached her.

“Send for Gayles.” Leliana instructed. She walked around the fire to the tent on the far right of the circle. Teiran followed a step behind her, watching.

“Threnn, our Quartermaster, seems not to be here. You will have to come back to speak with her. She will have the book of spells for you to keep on your armor, though you may want to consider reading it as well as keep it with you.” Leliana smiled to herself.

Teiran’s hands balled into fists, but she quickly forced them to unclench. “ _Battle is apart of this new life, Teiran.”_ She reminded herself, still she disliked the idea of using combat magic against people and she knew very little of it as a result. Stubbornly, she knew even less than the Keeper Deshanna had wanted her to master.

Leliana’s blank expression hid her surprise at Teiran’s reaction. She examined the internal struggle, guessing its cause. She waited for Teiran’s expression to clear before continuing, “For now, head to the forge just outside the town. Harritt is our blacksmith here and he will provide you with armor. Then, speak with Adan, the alchemist; he should give you health and lyrium potions. Meet us back at the Chantry when you are finished.” Leliana pointed the general direction of each location while she described them to Teiran.

A female soldier appeared at Leliana’s elbow with a salute. Leliana finished her descriptions before turning to the soldier, “Lieutenant Gayles, please escort the Herald.” Heading for the middle tent in the circle, Leliana left Teiran and Lieutenant Gayles alone in front of Threnn’s empty tent.

Teiran gazed at the Lieutenant, “ _Do I know her from somewhere?”_

Lieutenant Gayles saluted her, her leather armor lined with white fur and folding comfortably around the movement as if she had worn the fabric in to perfectly match her every move. “I am honored to get the chance to thank you again for saving my life and the life of my scouts, Herald of Andraste.”

Recognizing the woman, Teiran’s high eyebrows shot up even higher above her eyes. They had saved her in the mountains while travelling to the Temple. Teiran ran her fingers over the mark. “You’re welcome. I’m glad I could help.” She answered, looking away awkwardly, but her words genuine.

Glancing at the scout, Teiran waited for Lieutenant Gayles to lead. It was a moment before she realized Lieutenant Gayles was looking at her in the same manner. “ _Oh yes. I’m the elf leading a soldier around a human village on errands. How different life was . . . three? Five? Well, a couple of days ago . . .”_

Teiran began in the direction Leliana had indicated for the forge with Lieutenant Gayles a step behind her.

Keeping her gaze averted from the villagers and soldiers, Teiran flitted through Haven. Continuously looking around her, she focused on memorizing the layout of the paths and guessing what lay inside each building. All the while, doing her best to look busy so none of the worshiping eyes and excited whispers would come near her.

The steady beat of Lieutenant Gayles’ step behind her made her feel trapped; a consequence of her mind constantly seeking escape from her physical surroundings. She internally argued against pausing her stride to make the sound stop, which ran the risk of being cornered by the villagers.

Teiran did not forget that these same villagers were willing to hang her just a few days ago. She did not trust the fickle nature of a group that could call her their Herald after calling for her demise with scant information for either belief.

They continued down the steps guarded by the mabari hounds and then out the main entrance of Haven. The frozen lake and the forest surrounding it greeted them. Along the edge of the still lake were rows of tents belonging to the soldiers who were either engaged in mock battle or tending to their equipment.

Soaking in the fresh air from the forest, the Dalish elf relaxed. The natural environment combined with the lack of spotlight that had been trained allowed her to compose herself. Breathing deeply, she realized she had been practically holding her breath up until the doors to Haven crashed closed behind her. Lieutenant Gayles waited silently.

Teiran turned from the tents and the lake, scanning the landscape for the forge when the emerald light swirling in the sky captured her attention. Contained, if not erased.

Clearing her throat, Lieutenant Gayles took a half step to her left, bringing Teiran’s focus to the clanging of a hammer on an anvil. They moved towards the sound until a corral and the forge itself emerged.

“If the Inquisition wants to field a decent cavalry, it needs better horses.” A deep voice proclaimed.

Teiran glanced to her left, seeing a soldier and a scout standing near the corral with a few geldings in it. The soldier continued with authority, “I heard Seeker Pentaghast might try to acquire suitable mounts from Master Dennet in the Hinterlands.”

The female scout next to him replied with a rough and common accent, “Oh? And who are you to be fishing around for what the higher-ups are doing?”

“Back in Ansburg, my uncle was Fifth Praetor.” He boasted.

“And what’s that mean for you back in Ansburg?” she asked, intrigued.

“Honestly, about as much as it does here.” He smirked.

Teiran smiled at them and continued on her way to the forge. She hoped these two would find themselves next to the corral often.

Passing through the gap in the low wall that surrounded the forge, a rush of heat pushed against Teiran and her escort. Once acclimated to the heat, they saw a woman in a low-cut, off the shoulder dress and a man with a thick leather apron.

The woman purred, “Flissa thought you and your men might be working up a thirst. She sent me over to see if you needed anything.”

The bearded and bald man regarded her coolly, “We’re fine. Thank you.”

The woman shrugged her bare shoulders and, unhurriedly, made her way back into Haven.

The red-bearded man rounded on Teiran, “Expected you’d be by. I’m Harritt and everyone knows who you are. I have the gear Lady Cassandra requested.” Harritt, with a no-nonsense attitude, led them through his small forge. Its metallic atmosphere punctuated by the pounding of the anvil and the clattering of tools.

“Here ya go.” Harritt handed her a bundle of leather and buckles, placing it in her arms like a beloved pet. “World’s gone mad. Stock armor and blades are good against bandits, but we’re not fighting bandits. My gear will see you through demons, apostates, whatever this world throws at you.” Harritt announced proudly.

Teiran rearranged the armor in her arms and struggled to reply, _“Was he really giving it to her for free? What could she possibly give him in return? What was armor worth?”_

Finally, she managed, “Thank you.”

Harritt waved at her, a broad smile on his face, “You can change over there. It fits.”

Teiran glanced at the cabin he indicated. She nodded and headed for it.

After the cabin was declared empty and Lieutenant Gayles stationed herself outside the door, Teiran stood alone inside the spartan cabin crammed full of beds. She tossed the armor on the nearest bed, pressed her fingertips to the side of her head and paced.

Crossing the length of the cabin for the second time, her left hand flared wildly, mirroring her spiraling emotions and thoughts; both the magic and the elf were rapidly trying to adjust to the current situation.

The elf massaged her hand, waiting for the pinpricks of pain to pass and worrying over the flare. She peaked outside to see the Breach still sealed.

Relieved, she sighed and stepped over to the armor. Holding it in front of her, Teiran tried to imagine herself in the new identity that went with the armor: A leading member of the reborn Inquisition, her.

The forest green of the long-sleeved shirt reminded her of the servant’s outfit she had donned when this all began. She admitted that she liked the way the sturdy, green cloth and the brown leather coat that went down to her knees brought the image of a forest to mind. Teiran imagined they meant this to compliment her Dalish features. Thoughtfully, she ran her fingers across her cheekbones, along the full-toned, black tattoo branching from her nose to her hairline.

Having rediscovered them in the pocket of her other outfit, Teiran plopped the last of the berries into her mouth. She stashed the empty cloth back in the pocket of the gray pants.

Making sure all the buttons and leather straps were in place down the front of her shirt and coat, she pulled on the sensible leather boots. They felt considerably lighter than the last pair she had been given by Cassandra. And of course, this set of armor actually fit.

Her jaw clenched, “ _No more unconscious fittings and changing of clothes. That is my new goal: don’t pass out anymore.”_  Her expression smoothed, it seemed like an easy promise to make. She felt reasonably sure she could keep it. Unlike everything else that seemed beyond her control at the moment.

She walked around the cabin, feeling the give of the leather. Teiran decided she liked the new armor and boots. They offered protection without threatening to weigh her down and instilled a sense of being capable of long treks up and down mountains.

A hesitant knock on the door brought her back from her thoughts. She scrambled to gather her beige clothes and open the door. Lieutenant Gayles moved out of the way as Teiran emerged in her new armor.

With a bounce in her step, Teiran returned to the forge and approached Harritt.

Harritt ran a critical eye over the armor, muttering to himself.

The elf looked up into the blacksmith’s eyes, the corner of her mouth curved upwards, “Thank you.”

Harritt nodded, “It’ll do. Our designs are simple, but they’ll get the job done. Oh, this too.” He handed her a coarse cloth pack that she could sling across her back.

Teiran eagerly pawed through the empty pockets and felt the buckles.

This was a sturdy traveling pack that could hold a great deal. Teiran beamed, finally feeling like she had something to her name, something that was hers or at least something that could hold something of hers.

Sorrow for her supplies lost in the destruction of the Temple of Sacred Ashes tightened her throat, “ _And my staff, the Clan’s staff, my mother’s staff, gone.”_ She fought to keep her emotions in check, looking down and at the pack. “ _Don’t think about it. Not here.”_ She instructed, pushing the bubble of grief back down. She swallowed, placing her beige outfit in her new satchel. Blink. Swallow. _“Later.”_ She promised herself.

Harritt shifted from foot to foot, looking down at the snow. He was gratified that the Herald was happy with his work, but he felt it would unseemly to display such pride.

Without looking up at him, the elf asked Harritt, “So, what brought you to Haven?”

Harritt stroked his beard, “Come from a little town called Lothering. Long gone now. Lothering used to be an outpost for trade with Orzammar. Only time those stone-loving fools would come to the surface was to trade.”

“Was in Redcliffe when the darkspawn hit it during the Blight. Most people forget the Fifth Blight even happened, but we Fereldens remember. Helped rebuild. After the Hero of Ferelden came through, there was talk of Lothering becoming something again. King Bhelen of Orzammar seemed to like doing business with those on ‘the surface’. Not a popular opinion, not that it matters much now.”

Teiran listened and tried to remember the names and places so she could look them up in a book and on a map later. The blacksmith assumed she had an intimate knowledge of the events. In truth, there was merely the possibility she had read about them somewhere in her travels though the human libraries kept by the nobles. She made a mental note to ask someone the location of Haven’s library.

“Left when royalty decided it was time to hand the place over to the bloody mages. Ended up here. Just missed the boom. Can’t decide if I’m the luckiest son of a bitch walking, or the exact opposite.” Harritt exaggerated, revealing his distain for the harsh treatment that was the way of the world.

Teiran smiled awkwardly, “ _He must know I’m a mage. This armor is for a mage. What should I say?”_

“Well, being alive is always better than being dead right?” Teiran said, fiddling with a strap on her armor.

Harritt shrugged, “True enough. Anyway, come by when you need something.” And with that, the smith returned to his forge.

Lieutenant Gayles lead the way out of the forge. They curved around the low wall back to Haven. As they did, they passed the scout and soldier arguing loudly at the coral again.

The soldier declared, “Come on, you’ve seen our mounts. Most of them should be pulling plows.”

“We didn’t all grow up with fancy, noble horses, Ansburg. You ride whatever holds you.” The scout argued reasonably.

Teiran was amused by the nickname she had given him, remembering his boast from earlier.

The scout continued in her thick accent, “Why are you here with the scouts instead of fobbing around with the nobles anyway?”

Ansburg’s voice deepened, bringing out the aristocratic upbringing in his pronunciation, “My uncle died at the Conclave. I’m a good rider, and . . . well, I thought I’d be more useful here.”

She regarded him a moment, “Enh. We’ll see.”

Noting the soft, teasing respect in the scout’s tone, Teiran continued into Haven with lightness in her step and Lieutenant Gayles in tow.

The Dalish elf’s mind turned to mulling over Harritt’s life: his town being demolished by the Blight and being a survivor of that turbulent time in Ferelden. Teiran was suddenly grateful for the relative peace of living on the outskirts of towns in the Free Marches, moving when there was even a whisper of trouble.

Reaching the top of the wide stairs flanked by mabari hounds, Lieutenant Gayles sprung into action, putting herself between Teiran and the row of tents beside the tavern. “Herald.” She whispered in warning.

Looking around the scout, Teiran saw Varric approaching them lazily, his arms swinging with his stride. The elf stepped around Gayles, who remained close, alert.

Varric paused and observed them, “Seeker hire a new babysitter?” The dwarf threw his hands up, faking an injured pride.

Teiran looked from Lieutenant Gayles to Varric. It had been obvious and even welcome to have someone supervise her on the battlefield. However, she hadn’t realized her escort likely served the same purpose now in Haven.

“I don’t need a babysitter.” Surprise sharpened Teiran’s tone.

Varric chuckled, “Leaving the Herald of Andraste unguarded? Not gonna happen.”

“Please don’t call me that.” Teiran replied, unable to stand hearing the title coming from Varric.

Varric crossed his arms and considered her a moment, “Alright then, Loner. You are going to have to get used to it though.”

Teiran exhaled, “Ma sera—I mean: Thank you, Varric.”

Varric smiled kindly, “So, where are you being escorted to?”

Blinking against the afternoon sun, Teiran glanced up at their destination, “I’m heading over to the alchemist’s. Care to come with me?” She indicated the building beyond the tavern with a gesture.

Varric looked from the alchemist’s hut to Lieutenant Gayles’ tense stance. “I’ll have to pass; the alchemist isn’t the friendliest person in Haven and I don’t envy you. We’ll talk later.” Varric declined. He passed them and descended the stairs.

Teiran suddenly remembered the berries, “Oh! Thank you, Varric! For the blackberries.”

Varric turned back to her, cracking a wide grin, “No problem. Somehow, it seems to fall to me to remind you elves to eat.”

Teiran ran her fingertips over the mark on her palm, “Do you know where Solas is?” She looked around as if he might suddenly appear.

“Chuckles? Hm. Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen him for a while. One thing’s for sure though: you won’t find him near that alchemist.” Varric continued down the stairs, waving at her with his back turned.

Teiran watched him go for a moment before spinning on her heel and heading for the alchemist. Ignoring the whispers and the extended personal space people exercised, she followed the path around the tavern and climbed the steps, “I meant what I said, Lieutenant Gayles. I do not need you to follow me around Haven.”

The scout’s expression was passive and neutral, “Lady Nightingale has asked me to escort you and I am happy to do it.” Lieutenant Gayles saluted her and remained steadfastly by the elf’s side.

Teiran sighed and continued her tense march through Haven, following the path between two wooden cabins. She approached the building at the end of the path, pausing to admire the detailed falcon-like statues that stood on either side of the door to the alchemists’ cabin. Entering the apothecary between the two golden bird statues, the elf wondered at their place here in this small, poor village.


	15. Potions, Requisitions and Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting Adan, Threnn, Cullen and Josephine means we have introduced everyone in Haven. Yay! Now only a couple more days kicking around Haven before setting off to the Hinterlands.
> 
> Me: Wow, almost everyone made an appearance in this chapter. *glares pointedly at Solas*
> 
> Solas: *oblivious and asleep*
> 
> Me: We will have to rectify this *cracks knuckles* Oh, Cassandra? Could you come here a moment?

Tables littered with notes and bookshelves full of vials dominated the rectangular room of the alchemist. Adan, muttering and running his hand agitatedly through his close-cut hair, sat hunched over one of his tables, using mortar and pestle to grind a green herb. He didn’t look up when the door closed loudly behind Lieutenant Gayles.

Teiran approached him slowly, curiously peeking over his shoulder while keeping her distance.

The alchemist wore a white robe adorned with gold and red that resembled the Chantry robes, but the elaborate designs marked it as otherwise. In fact, the alchemist was the best-dressed person the Dalish elf had encountered in Haven. Teiran remembered the golden birds guarding the entrance and wondered if someone could accrue that much wealth in this small, mountain village honorably.

Adan—his thick, brown beard leading the way—glanced at her, “Ah. Look whose back from the dead. Again.” He quipped, turning back to observing his mushed roots.

“What is that?” Teiran inquired, moving to the edge of his table and staring into the mortar. She inhaled the scent, _“Oh! It's Uralas'ladarelan. The healing herb.”_

“What I’ve been keeping you alive with: Elfroot. You should be thankful Seggrit could be paid off to gather it.” Adan replied, pouring the mortar’s contents into a vial.

“Elfroot?” Teiran asked, surprised that the word in Common language would contain ‘elf’.

Adan explained, taking her surprise to mean unfamiliarity with the herb, “Elfroot can be used with little preparation and is extremely useful. You can speed up healing and numb pain with as little effort as rubbing it on a wound. Or in your case, making a salve. It is utterly simple and utterly boring.” He sealed the vial and cleaned his instruments, sighing dramatically.

“I’ve heard of it, we call it Uralas'ladarelan.” Teiran commented neutrally.

Adan unrolled his sleeves and turned to face Lieutenant Gayles.

Teiran tried to hold his attention, “I read your notes. I wanted to thank you for healing me.” She moved away from the table and bowed her head in gratitude.

Adan looked at the elf with his hands on his hips, “Someone had to patch you up after you staggered out of Maker-knows-where. Though, you’re welcome.” However, Adan seemed softened by her gratitude.

When she straightened from her bow and met his gaze, Adan added, “You can pay me back by fixing the world.”

He crossed his arms and leaned back, “Name’s Adan. I’m in charge of keeping our little band here stocked with potions and elixirs. Not that Seeker Pentaghast seems to care whether we’ve got the supplies to actually _do_ that.”

“Is there something I can do to help? I know what . . . elfroot looks like. I could bring any I find to you.” Teiran offered.

“Well, since you asked, yes. You bring me the herbs and I’ll supply you with potions. If you can find the really rare stuff, it’ll make more potent potions. Same with tonics. I would like to ask you a favor though . . .”

Teiran waited and Adan continued, “I haven’t been able to locate Master Taigen’s notes. Old bastard was working on something special. He died at the Conclave, but I don’t believe he took them with him. Since I’m being forced to play mother hen here . . . ”

“Sure.” Teiran agreed easily, happy to help. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lieutenant Gayles’ forehead knit together in disapproval.

“Excellent. Well, I best get back to my work. Let me know when you find Master Taigen’s notes.” Adan turned back to his table, pulling a scroll towards him.

Standing a little straighter, Teiran hinted, “Leliana sent me for some healing potions . . . ”

Adan, already absorbed in his work, waved curtly at the vial-filled table to his right, “Take what you need from there.”

Approaching the table, Teiran selected and stored the small, green vials, securing them inside her new pack; using the rings of fabric designed with such a purpose in mind. After tying the glass securely and slinging the pack onto her back, Teiran stepped out of the warm apothecary into the cold air.

Seeing the snow drifting down, Teiran introspectively reached out into the empty air to feel the bits of snow melt when they came in contact with her skin.

“Herald?” Lieutenant Gayles began uncertainly.

Teiran stopped, tilting her head back to look into the soldier’s dark brown eyes.

“Certainly, you must have better things to do than running errands for the alchemist. If you wished it, I could send someone to look for these notes.” Lieutenant Gayles shifted her stance stiffly, unsure how the Herald would react, but confident in her opinion.

Teiran looked to her right, considering a moment, “Even so, looking for Adan’s notes will give me an excuse to explore more of Haven. I don’t mind. Thanks though.” She backtracked to the tavern.

Lieutenant Gayles followed, eyebrows pinched. She seemed to be deciding whether or not her opinion of the Herald of Andraste had changed or not.

Reaching the noisy tavern, Teiran turned right towards the Chantry. Still looking everywhere and nowhere simultaneously to avoid seeing other people, she noticed a large piece of parchment fluttering in the wind, partially covering the sun design on the double doors. Teiran’s feet lurched towards the curiosity.

Lieutenant Gayles was startled by the sudden change in direction; they had been almost at the Quartermaster’s tent, now they approached the Chantry doors.

A small crowd milled outside the doors, scanning and rescanning the declaration bearing a peculiar seal.  The crowd created a bubble of empty space for Teiran when she approached.

Teiran recognized the seal: a sun-rimmed eye pierced by a dagger. The Inquisition existed on paper, displayed for the world to view. Teiran read the document fully, switching her weight from foot to foot. She knew most of the information already, but didn’t have a face to put to the names: Cullen and Josephine. Teiran was sure Leliana had mentioned a Josephine, or had it been Cassandra?

“Huh.” Teiran declared. She finished reading and resumed their trek to visit Threnn. Only as she left did she notice that people were glancing sidelong at her. Watching her with barely-concealed curiosity, reverence and speculation. The knot in Teiran’s stomach tightened.

Fleeing in the direction of the large campfire with the trio of tents, Teiran felt she was coming full circle.  She brushed a bit of snow that had blown onto her leather coat, leaving trails of moisture as the snowflakes melted under her hand.

They approached the tent on the far right, Lieutenant Gayles stomping through the snow by her side. Teiran paused outside the tent flap uncertainly.

Lieutenant Gayles stepped forward and fearlessly knocked on the central pole between the flaps.

A woman pulled back the tent flap and stepped into the weak, wintry light. She wore a strange burnt-orange, feathered turban with metal armor at her shoulders and mint green pants.

Teiran was suddenly very grateful for her wardrobe’s color scheme, though this woman carried the colors with blunt authority.

The Quartermaster’s eyes scanned Teiran’s face and ears then spoke in a bored tone, she had had this conversation multiple times already, “If you’re here to clean, Hess can get you a bucket and a broom.” Without looking, she pointed out a man sitting around the large cooking fire in the alcove of tents, “Anyone calls you ‘knife-ear’, you come to me.”

Lieutenant Gayles puffed indignantly. Teiran’s eyebrows arched over her wide eyes.

Before anyone could say anything more, Threnn appraised Teiran’s armor and recognized the material; identical to the bolts she had given to Harritt to craft. “Oh! You’re her. Threnn, Inquisition Quartermaster. I’m doing what I can to supply this mess.” She waved her hand dismissively.

Teiran folded her arms across her chest, “And what does a . . .Quartermaster . . . do exactly?”

Threnn leaned back and shifted her weight onto one foot. Confident and relaxed, she answered, “I make sure the Inquisition troops have food in their bellies and iron in their hands. Both are important. Lot of people expecting us to be heroes, marching all day to fight the demons. Turns out heroes need to dig latrines just like everyone else.” She finished, shaking her head at an imagined foolishness.

Then her voice turned hopeful, emphasizing her slightly nasal accent, “If you find what I need to fill one of my requisitions. I’d appreciate you bringing it in.”

“How does someone end up as Quartermaster for the Inquisition?” Teiran inquired.

Threnn crossed her arms and straightened, her voice turning hard and resolutely admiring, “I served Ferelden under Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir. Best commanding officer this world has ever seen.”

She frowned, “After they all turned on him at the Landsmeet in Denerim, though, there wasn’t much use for people who held that opinion. The Grey Wardens executed him, the old king’s bastard Alistair, I heard. Only smart thing those nobles did was give Queen Anora back her throne and stop bickering long enough to end the Blight.”

Threnn’s bitter tone lightened, “Queen Anora offered my services to the Inquisition. It was a kindness; she knew I supported her father and got me away from the political garbage.”

Teiran responded carefully, trying to get more information while avoiding a diatribe, “Huh, I’ve never met someone who supported Loghain Mac Tir after King Cailan died at Ostagar.”

“People just don’t want to hear the truth. I was at Ostagar; and I know what really happened. King Cailan overextended his position and the Grey Wardens were too late lighting the signal. Following the original plan would have gotten everyone killed! Teyrn Loghain made the right decision.” Threnn defended passionately.

Threnn took a deep breath and glanced at Teiran who appeared to be listening, but her face showed no clue what she might be thinking about Threnn’s declaration.

Lieutenant Gayles on the other hand was glaring pointedly at Threnn.

Threnn remembered that she was speaking with an important member of the Inquisition and decided this wasn’t worth risking her position here, “I . . . apologize. Sister Leliana told me I shouldn’t talk about this. Just forget it.”

Teiran’s face regained animation and she spoke reassuringly, “I have no problem with you expressing your opinion, Threnn.”

Teiran gave her an apologetic half-smile, “I think that what happened at Ostagar could have gone either way, it just depends on whose opinion you trust since too few from both sides survived. However, I think Loghain Mac Tir’s actions after becoming regent—for a woman who is clearly capable no less—were worthy of his fate.”

Threnn put a hand to her face, frowning thoughtfully, “I see.”

Teiran changed the subject gently; “Leliana said you had a tome for me?”

Threnn regained her confident posture as she strode into her tent and reappeared a few minutes later with a thick, worn book. She handed it to Teiran, “That what you need?”

Teiran held the book in one hand and turned a couple of pages with her other, her eyes scanning over the spells. “Yes, thank you.” She clipped it to her armor and secured it with the leather strap.

“What did you mean when you mentioned requisitions earlier? You said I should bring materials I find?” Teiran asked, adjusting the coat to accommodate the new weight.

“I’m making this Inquisition run with what we have, but we’re not a real army. We’re stretched thin on materials, so I’ve put up a requisition list for anything that could help our people.” Threnn handed Teiran a scroll.

“Here, take a look. You find some iron and a good logging site, maybe Harritt can get our troops better weapons.” Threnn half-smiled.

Teiran glanced at it, scanning the list.

Teiran returned the smile warmly, she appreciated that Threnn saw the situation as a being part of a team to help ‘our’ troops. Her smile widened when she put the scroll in her satchel, pleased that she was accumulating belongings.

Threnn gestured, “When you find something, one of my boys will take the materials and bring it back to me.”

“I’ll do that. Farewell.” Teiran promised.

“Maker go with you.” Threnn saluted before disappearing into her tent.

Ambling away from Threnn’s tent, Teiran was half-listening to a pair of Chantry priests. The priests took no notice of her walking past as they cooked over a large fire.

Stirring the metal pot, one priest began, “I did not see good Templars and evil mages in that Circle, sister. I saw prisoner and jailers. The prisoners learned fear and the jailers cruelty.”

The priest’s companion argued, her voice soft, “But the Templars serve the Chantry.”

“Until we asked them to be less harsh in their treatment of the mages, at which point they rebelled.” The first priest countered. “I am not certain the Chantry should ever have been backed by blades.”

Teiran stared at their backs, trying to get a good look at the first priest’s face. She considered approaching the first priest and expressing her agreement with her opinion, but then the two noticed that Teiran was eavesdropping on their conversation.

The two priests were properly embarrassed by the situation, the first priest clearing her throat and adding a nervous vigor to her stirring of the large pot.

Teiran was starting to recognize the look the soft-spoken priest wore under the tight smile and averted gaze; she was clearly awed by the Herald of Andraste.

Teiran blushed at the awkwardness of the situation and marched quickly out of sight of the large cooking fire and into the Chantry.

Lieutenant Gayles closed the thick, sun-crested doors behind them.

 “There you are! We are ready. Thank you, Lieutenant. You are free to go.” Cassandra’s voice rang. She stopped in front of Teiran.

Teiran heard the pound of Lieutenant Gayles’ salute on her armor and then felt the gush of air from the open Chantry doors.

Teiran spun around, “Thank you.” She caught Lieutenant Gayles’ acknowledging nod as the doors banged shut. Turning back, she saw Cassandra already strutting gracefully towards the only room Teiran had visited so far in Haven’s Chantry.

After the elf caught up to the warrior, the two women fell in step. In sync, they crossed the Chantry hall with torches providing light on either side of the faded, red carpet under their boots.

 _“Ah!”_ Teiran’s left palm fleetingly felt as though an icicle had pressed against her skin. Frowning down at it, she shook out the strange sensation while continuing down the hallway.

Watching out of the corner of her eyes and without pausing their stride, Cassandra asked attentively, “Does it trouble you?”

“It’s fine. It doesn’t really hurt anymore. I just wish I knew what it was and how I got it.” Teiran halted, face creased in frustration. She ran her fingers over where the mark would appear if activated.

Cassandra paused with her and didn’t answer a moment.

Teiran looked up at her.

“We will find out.” Cassandra promised, moved by the unease still evident in Teiran’s lightly freckled face.

Cassandra continued, “What’s important is that your mark is now stable, as is the Breach. You’ve given us time and Solas believes a second attempt might succeed—provided the mark has more power.”

Teiran’s ears pricked up at the mention of sealing the Breach and the strange way Cassandra’s accent emphasized Solas’ name. _“More power?”_ Teiran considered warily.

“The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place. That is not easy to come by.” Cassandra concluded, her hand waving to emphasize the quantities discussed.

“Clearly you have something in mind. Some sort of power source.” Teiran replied, eager to solve the problem.

“We do.” Cassandra answered, pushing the door at the end of the hall wide open.

The other three members of the fledgling Inquisition encircled the small room dominated by a map of Thedas.

Cassandra, moving next to Leliana, took her place at the table. The door closed behind them. Teiran stood in the last empty place at the table, nearest the door.

Cassandra—gesturing to the only man in the room—regally announced, “May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces.”

The blonde human wearing a feathery mantle around his metal armor glanced at the map before stating somberly, “Such as they are. We lost many soldiers in the valley and I fear many more before this is through.” He shook his head, seeing the dead soldiers before his very eyes.

Cassandra wasted no time before continuing, “This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat.” Indicating an understatedly beautiful woman with a great deal of silky, gold fabric catching the light of the candle on her clipboard.

“Andaran atish’an.” Josephine greeted her confidently in elven.

“You speak elven?” Teiran questioned, astonished.

Lady Montilyet laughed lightly, her pen still hovering in her right hand, “You’ve just heard the entirety of it, I’m afraid.” She admitted regretfully.

“And of course you know Sister Leliana.” Cassandra redirected the attention to the hooded and armored woman on her left.

“My position here involves a degree of . . .” Leliana paused to pinpoint the right word to describe her place in the Inquisition.

“She is our spymaster.” Cassandra interrupted matter-of-factly, providing a direct answer.

Teiran was grateful once again for the Seeker’s forthright personality.

Leliana, on the other hand, glared daggers in Cassandra’s direction, “Yes. Tactfully put, Cassandra.”

Teiran sensed that they had had conversations about Cassandra’s lack of ‘tact’ previously and the elf empathized with Cassandra. Teiran smiled internally at the thought of her brother, Ivun, who also tried to shame Teiran out of her tactless ways.

Putting her left arm behind her back and her right arm across her stomach, Teiran inclined her torso in a slight bow, “Pleased to meet you all.” She expressed sincerely. Returning to an upright posture, “Cassandra tells me you have a plan?”

Cassandra led, “I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good.”

“Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help.” Leliana asserted.

Cullen argued gruffly, “And I still disagree. The Templars could serve just as well.” His tone seeming to imply they were replaying a fruitless conversation that he already knew wouldn’t come to a resolution.

Cassandra sighed heavily, “We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into that mark—“

Cullen’s voice resounded against the large, stone walls forcefully, “Might destroy us all. Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so—”

Leliana interrupted him, her tone supremely certain, “Pure speculation.”

 “ _I_ was a Templar. I know what they’re capable of.” Cullen insisted, his conviction equally certain.

Teiran, being an apostate mage, automatically recoiled at the thought of more Templar soldiers being added to the Inquisition. However, she would wait for more information before deciding anything; _“After all, adding more power could make things worse . . .”_

Josephine’s sultry accent rang with reason, “Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us yet. The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition—” Josephine turned to Teiran, pointing with her quill, “And you, specifically.”

 _“Me?”_ Teiran scrambled to decide which reason is more likely for their denouncement. She settled on, “They still think I’m the one who caused the Breach.”

Josephine nodded gently, “That is not the entirety of it any longer. Some are calling you—a Dalish elf—the ‘Herald of Andraste.’ That frightens the Chantry.” She shrugged as if this were simply a natural reaction.

Ambassador Montilyet turned from Teiran to the rest of the circle, her voice rising in volume, “The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy and we heretics for harboring you.”

Cassandra shifted her weight, glancing to her right at the Herald in question. “Chancellor Roderick’s doing, no doubt.”

“It limits our options. Approaching the mages or Templars for help is currently out of the question.” Josephine assured them.

Teiran threw her arms up in frustration, annoyed that the unwanted title was causing problems and fearful that it was permanent, “Just how am _I_ the ‘Herald of Andraste’?”

Josephine, Cullen, Leliana and Cassandra all looked around at each other.

Cassandra spoke softly, “People saw what you did at the Temple, how you stopped the Breach from growing. They have also heard about the woman seen in the rift when we first found you. They believe that was Andraste.”

Leliana spoke, “Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading—”

Cassandra interrupted, staring at Leliana, “Which we have not.”

Leliana frowned at Cassandra before clearing her expression and continuing, “The point is, everyone is talking about you.”

“It’s quite the title, isn’t it?” Cullen began smoothly, “How do you feel about that?” he asked, genuine concern in his friendly expression.

Teiran took a deep breath and ran her fingers over the invisible mark, “It is . . . unsettling.” Teiran glanced at the disappointment she knew would cross Cassandra’s face. “I’m no herald of anything, particularly not Andraste.” She fiercely proclaimed, staring down each of them in turn.

Cullen laughed good-naturedly, “I’m sure the Chantry would agree.”

Leliana explained coaxingly, “People are desperate for a sign of hope. For some, you’re that sign.” _“Even if she doesn’t believe. Others do. And we can’t have her attitude towards this turning them away or against us.”_ Leliana thought.

“And to others, a symbol of everything that’s gone wrong.” Josephine added gently.

Teiran frowned; this title was only becoming more and more troublesome, “Will the Chantry attack us?” A frightening image of Templars descending upon them over this religious squabble coming to mind.

Cullen smiled mockingly, “With what? They have only words at their disposal.”

Josephine frowned, “And yet, they may bury us with them.” She warned.

The Dalish elf was beginning to see why she was added to the inner circle of the Inquisition; Cassandra, Leliana, Cullen and Josephine were all clearly capable and perhaps even exceptional, but they were also all opposites. Each had their own way of handling situations and because they were confident in their abilities and their strategies, they were unable to work cohesively. They needed more than just a tool that could be pointed at the Breach. Teiran realized she had signed up to become the official referee of the Inquisition. _“In truth, I would prefer the title of Arbitrator of the Inquisition over the Herald of Andraste._

Teiran put a hand under her chin, “The Chantry isn’t more concerned about the Breach? The real threat?” Teiran pressed, she could not understand how an institution that claimed to serve the people could take a stronger stance on her days-old title than the destruction of Thedas.

Cullen explained, “They do know it’s a threat. They just don’t think _we_ can stop it.”

Josephine added, “The Chantry is telling everyone you’ll make it worse.”

A moment of silence descended upon the group, they contemplated the Chantry’s actions against them.

Leliana leaned forward, meeting Teiran’s gaze from under her hood, “There is something you can do.”

Leliana elaborated softly, “A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak with you. She is not far. And knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable.”

Teiran’s frown lightened, “Huh, a Chantry priest willing to speak with a Dalish Herald? I’ll go see what she wants.”

Leliana smiled faintly, “I understand she is a reasonable sort. You will find Mother Giselle tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe.”

“Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition’s influence while you are there.” Cullen advised pleasantly.

Josephine urged, “We need agents to extend our reach beyond this valley, and you’re better suited than anyone to recruit them.”

Leliana moved close to the map, “The Hinterlands has become a battleground for the fight between the Templars and the apostates. It is vital that we restore order to the area. If Giselle dies, any hope of Chantry support dies with her. My scouts will slip past the fighting, find her, and protect her with their lives.” Leliana placed a heavy, gold marker with wings just below the label ‘The Hinterlands’ on the ‘Kingdom of Ferelden’ side of the large map of Thedas.

Cassandra concluded, “We will leave for the Hinterlands as soon as we are able. In the meantime, let’s think of other options. I won’t leave this all to the Herald.”

“We?” Teiran inquired. She looked around at the Seeker, Spymaster, Diplomat and Commander.

Staring at her clipboard thoughtfully, Josephine clarified, “Cassandra will accompany you. Solas and Varric have offered to join you as well. We will tend to things here at Haven.”

The diplomat continued, circling something among her papers and reaching behind her. “Now that we have settled our journey to the Hinterlands, there are other matters we should discuss before adjourning for today.”

It was only then that Teiran noticed anything beyond the maps and the people: Josephine had several scrolls in a satchel resting on the stone window ledge behind her.

Josephine extracted a scroll from the overflowing sack. She quickly reread its contents and then handed it to Cullen who also glanced through it and handed it to Leliana. Clearly, they had all read it before.

When it reached Teiran, she unfurled it and immediately knew the author. Varric’s elegant and efficient script requested aid in finding the author penning a novel masquerading as an installment to Hard in Hightown, a series of Varric’s.

Teiran smiled at Josephine, “Varric certainly has a way with nicknames huh?”

Josephine laughed delicately, “Yes, it seems I have acquired one as well. I do have a friend in Antiva City who could look into the matter I suppose.”

Leliana disagreed, “If this author has evaded the Merchants Guild, the Crows might be a better choice for investigating him.”

Teiran was rereading the scroll, feeling all their eyes on her. She swallowed and carefully refolded the scroll, keeping her eyes on the parchment, “I agree with Leliana. Let’s try a different way of getting the information if Varric already tried the Merchant’s guild.”

The inner circle looked around at each other and no one spoke. Then, very deliberately, Leliana placed another winged marker on the map, this time near ‘The Free Marches’ label.

Teiran was too preoccupied with the momentous feeling in the silence to notice where Leliana was retrieving her markers from, but she did notice that there was a box of markers on the corner of the gigantic table. Inside the half-open box she could see markers sculpted with a fist holding aloft a spiked circlet and others that bared a crossed set of keys.

Teiran offered the scroll back to Josephine, who accepted it and passed it to Cullen who handed it to Leliana. Leliana kept the scroll tucked under her folded arm, nodding in acceptance.

Josephine reached into her sack of parchment and produced another scroll. It was handed about the room quickly, obviously the elf was the only one who had not read it once again; Teiran stared at the whinny script before her eyes.

“Is this a serious request? He wants us to get rid of refugees who are only fleeing the mages and Templars?” Teiran asked, her eyebrows nearing her hairline.

Josephine’s polite smile faltered, “Ah, yes, Lord Kildarn. A pariah even among his peers. Let us send a polite refusal and nothing more.” She expressed dispassionately.

Leliana stepped forward, “We could take advantage of his raving. My spies can harass the refugees into moving somewhere else, to win Lord Kildarn's favor.”

Cullen cleared his throat, “We could send a few patrols, but I would prefer they help the refugees, not this Lord Kildarn.” His eyebrows pulled down over his eyes as he spat the man’s name.

Teiran nodded, rolling the scroll, “Yes, let’s send our people to help the refugees, maybe even ask them back to Haven? Give them a place to live?”

The message was passed around to Cullen. Reaching into the box of markers, Cullen removed one of the fists and placed it in Ferelden; near Lord Kildarn’s lands, Teiran supposed.

Cullen moved the scroll from one hand to the other in anticipation, “If we help them, there will be some among them who will join our cause.”

Josephine began to reach behind her for another scroll when she noticed Leliana refold her arms across her chest; Cassandra begin to pace silently; Cullen leaned on the table and Teiran stared at the map with glassy eyes.

The Ambassador retracted her hand, “That’s probably enough for now. We should skip our meeting tonight as well, to allow you to prepare for the Hinterlands.”

The atmosphere of the room instantly regenerated at the prospect of business being concluded for the day. Josephine watched her companions all loosen and stretch their muscles. Her gaze settled on their newest addition, “Teirantala.”

Teiran looked up and over at Josephine.

Josephine continued, “Leliana has offered her quarters to share with you at least until you leave for the Hinterlands; if that suits you?”

Teiran glanced at Leliana, “Thank you.”

Leliana nodded humbly, “It is not a problem. You are already familiar with it.”

 _“Leliana’s room must have been the one I woke up in this morning.”_ Teiran surmised.

Josephine nodded quickly already speaking, “Excellent. Here are the reports we have read.” Josephine put her clipboard down on the table, gathered an armful of scrolls and walked over to Teiran.

The elf met Josephine with her sack open and ready to deposit the scrolls.

“Read them over yourself and we’ll discuss our options tomorrow morning. As you can tell, we place our initials on the outside of each scroll after reading them. At the moment, you are the only one left. But when we get new messages, make sure everyone reads them before our meeting. I’ll have a runner is assigned to you, but for now Leliana’s runner can deliver your messages as well.

Leliana cautioned Teiran, “Aronhalaan is my runner. She has been my scout for many years and I trust her completely. Do not to give the messages to anyone else.”

Teiran nodded, her eyes wide and her satchel half-filled with scrolls. _“There was more to read? For a new organization we already have a lot of decisions to make.”_

Cassandra rounded on Teiran, “I will look into what supplies we will need for the Hinterlands. We will wait for Scout Harding’s report of Mother Giselle’s location and then set forth immediately.” She spoke decisively and quickly, leading Teiran out of the room.

Teiran followed Cassandra down the hallway and out of the Chantry. Josephine was no longer with them, but Cullen and Leliana followed a step behind them.

The fresh, cool air of evening greeted them and the heavy double doors closed behind them.

“Lieutenant Gayles is elsewhere.” Leliana hinted, still staring straight ahead at the sun just beginning to sink below Haven’s wooden defenses, shadowing everything in a darker, richer hue.

Teiran marched in front of Cassandra and Leliana, fists stiff at her side and fixing them with a glare, “I do not need anyone to follow me around Haven. I am perfectly capable.”

Leliana crossed her arms and smirked, clearly amused with Teiran’s proclamation.

Cassandra regarded Teiran seriously.

Cullen’s soft, indulgent laughter came from behind Cassandra’s left shoulder.

“Hmph.” Cassandra huffed skeptically.

“I suppose it has been almost two days since you were in life-threatening danger.” Leliana jabbed.

Cullen added, “My soldiers cannot always be spared simply to follow her around Haven. We will have to let her out of our sight eventually and Haven is relatively safe now. ”

“Then we are agreed?” Teiran asked.

Cassandra assigned, pointing to the tome on Teiran’s belt, “Read that book. You will need to know more than two spells to defend yourself in battle.”

Cullen advised, “Solas might be willing to help you out with that if you get stuck.”

“Here.” Leliana handed Teiran a key. “As a member of the Inquisition we keep our meetings private and our messages from prying eyes.”

With a small wave, Leliana bid them all farewell, heading down the pathway to the right of the trio of tents. She disappeared from sight, rounding the bend in the path.

Teiran pocketed the key, mystified.

Cullen reached out for Teiran’s hand; “I look forward to working with you, Herald.”

Teiran jumped from his extended hand reflexively, then slowly reached for his hand.

He shook her hand and turned to Cassandra, “Well, Cassandra, care for a sparring match? My troops could use a demonstration.” Cullen asked amiably.

Cassandra smiled heartily in acceptance.

Her gaze snapped back to Teiran, “We will meet you back here for dinner. Just before the sun sets.”

Then, Cassandra and Cullen began down the opposite path that wound around the tavern.

Teiran took this to mean that she was free of an escort. She breathed deeply; this was the first time she had been alone in so long. Teiran lazily looked around her, shifted her pack, feeling the scrolls within them rustle against each other.

 _“I suppose I should read these or practice with that.”_ Teiran touched the tome at her hip. Deciding, she kept her eyes from the curious faces around her by tracing the layers of color in the evening sky. When her gaze rested on the partially closed Breach, she decided to head the same direction Leliana had gone, in search of a quiet place to work.


	16. Say Goodnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric and Teiran have a heart-to-heart. Teiran discovers she's not alone in Leliana's cabin.
> 
> *Cassandra and Cullen spar, showing off before the awe-struck troops*
> 
> *Solas is sound asleep*
> 
> *Josephine peruses her library, scowling at a scroll*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone! I'm back after a short Ao3 break (still active on tumblr as Teiran Lavellan)!
> 
> I decided to heavily update the previous 15 chapters so that took awhile. ^^; I really feel like I've eliminated the passive voice and just generally made it better. So newbies, you're welcome! And oldies, I'm sorry you had to read that rough draft and thank you for sticking around! :D

Teiran started for the cabin she now shared with Leliana. Following the path around the cooking pot and past the tavern, she came upon the tents staked down next to the tavern within sight of the stairs flanked by mabari statues. Her eyes fell upon a short, familiar figure.

Clothed in his tailored, red coat with its subtle but elaborate patterned trim, Varric’s back contrasted against the white snow. Squatting by the bonfire next to his tent by the tavern, he warmed his hands.

Teiran veered off-course and approached the dwarf.

Varric tilted his head in Teiran’s direction, his earrings gleaming in the firelight, “So, now that Cassandra’s out of earshot, are you holding up all right?” He asked sincerely.

Varric rose from the fire and looked up into the elf’s face, “I mean, you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than one day, Loner.” He smiled kindheartedly.

Teiran regarded him. Unlike her brother, Varric gave the impression that any answer, as long as it was true, would be the right one, despite what was proper. “I have no idea what’s happening anymore. I’m just glad to have survived.” The tension she didn’t know was hunching her shoulders easing.

Varric laughed easily, “That makes two of us. I still can’t believe you survived Cassandra. You’re lucky you were out cold for most of her frothing rage.”

Teiran laughed weakly, the image of Cassandra so furious bringing to mind the memory of her anger when they first met in the dungeon with Leliana. How long ago that seemed to her.

Varric ran his hand over the defined stubble on his chin, his tone waxing serious, “For days now, we’ve been staring at the Breach, watching demons and Maker-knows-what fall out of it. ‘Bad for morale’ would be an understatement. I still can’t believe anyone was in there and lived.”

Teiran ran her fingers over her marked palm, glancing at the green light in the sky and biting her lower lip nervously.

Varric took a step back and regarded the elf, “Loner, you might want to consider running at the first opportunity. I’ve written enough tragedies to recognize where this is going. Heroes are everywhere. I’ve seen that. But the hole in the sky? That’s beyond heroes. We’re going to need a miracle.”

Teiran stared, equally serious, back at him. For a moment her mind flitted through the plot of Tale of The Champion, a favorite among the wives of the nobles in the Free Marches. Teiran had read it and enjoyed Varric’s narrative as well as the story itself. _“Would I now become one of those heroes Varric sees everywhere?”_ She wondered, her reality still dream-like and only becoming painfully real in moments like this where she marveled over the possibility of being a hero when a handful of days ago she was nothing more than another Dalish elf.

Varric waited patiently for her answer, he tried to identify the emotions and thoughts passing through her expression, but they flickered too quickly to be readable to a stranger.

Teiran finally replied, “You could have left, but you stayed. Why? Cassandra said you were free to go.”

“I like to think I’m as selfish and irresponsible as the next guy, but this . . . Thousands of people died on that mountain. I was almost one of them. And now there’s a hole in the sky. Even I can’t walk away and just leave that to sort itself out.” He shook his head at the thought.

“Neither could I, Varric. Walking away isn’t an option for me, regardless of the tragic ending. It is my story now.” A corner of her mouth flicked upward in a quick half-smile.

“Hm. In that case, I hope you’ve got a miracle up your sleeve.” Varric winked, but he wore a concerned expression that looked odd combined with the carefree gesture.

“Me too. Well, I have some work to do before tomorrow,” Teiran shifted her pack.

“Are you bunking with Cassandra?” Varric wondered idly.

Teiran shook her head, “No, Leliana’s cabin. It’s just down over there right?”

Varric’s eyes widened, crinkling as he laughed, “Aren’t you just a little bit afraid of being without armor around Lady Nightingale?”

Teiran stared at Varric; she hadn’t considered it actually, “Leliana?”

Varric explained, “When I met Leliana, she was already famous for being one of the Hero of Ferelden’s companions. She burst into Kirkwall and threatened us as only the Left hand of the Divine can. Not long after, Cassandra abducted and interrogated me about Hawke’s whereabouts after Blondie blew up the Chantry in Kirkwall. But we’ll just leave it at that and say that Divine Justinia V has some seriously scary hands.”

Teiran tilted her head to the side, “I see what you mean but . . .” She shrugged, unable to explain her intuitive sense about people.

“Fearless, Loner.” Varric shook his head.

Teiran shrugged again and restarted her journey through Haven, waving to Varric, “I’ll see you at dinner then?”

Varric smiled hugely, “That you will.”

Down the mabari stairs and back to where she started this strange day, Teiran entered the brown cabin. She glanced around, noticing a cot had been added in her absence. She settled her pack on it. At the foot of the cot was a trunk with a heavy lock. _“Oh.”_ Teiran removed the key Leliana had given her from her coat pocket.

Teiran hung her light armor coat on the edge of her cot. Kneeling before the metal and hide trunk, she slid the key into the lock. Raising the lid, she placed both the key and lock on the floor beside her.

_SQUAWK!_

The Dalish elf threw herself away from the sound, turning to look at its origin: a metal cage on the floor in the corner holding a large, black crow.

Gripping her wildly beating heart, Teiran willed it to slow with deep breaths. She laughed at herself and bent down to examine the bird.

“You scared me!” she accused with narrowed eyes.

The crow stared blandly back at her.

She returned to the trunk, finding some basic necessities, candles, ink, wax and a newly minted die of the Inquisition’s crest with a dagger through an open eye. Teiran reorganized the items within the chest more efficiently, leaving enough empty space for her to empty her pack. She piled the scrolls on her cot and rediscovered her beige outfit and boots at the bottom.

After considering them a moment, she locked the door to the cabin and changed back into the thinner, softer material. Storing her dark green outfit, her emptied pack and the leather armor coat in the trunk.

The elf retrieved a candle from the trunk and reached for the flint. She set the candle on a nearby surface and was about to strike the rocks together when she paused. Teiran stared at the flint then threw it back into the trunk decisively. She lit a small flame on her palm and held it to the wick until it caught.

The bird squawked from its corner.

“There is no point in hiding who I am now. Everybody knows I’m a Dalish mage, not an archer. It’s high time I started acting like it too.” She explained to the crow, but refusing to look in its direction. Instead she placed the candle near the head of the cot and settled against a pillow, the pile of scrolls within easy reach.

She unrolled the first one, her hand resting just above her lip. She concentrated on the flowing scrawl, settling into her task, content and even happy with her central decision-making role.

She quickly resolved to comply in some way with Teyrn Fergus Cousland’s request. She placed her “T. L.” below the ambassador’s “JM”.

Teiran rubbed her face, knuckles swirling against her closed eyelids. The break-neck pace of the last couple of days pulled at her focus. Teiran yawned, shifted to sit up straighter. Pulling her magical tome towards her, she opened it amongst the scrolls on her bed sheet. She shifted through the magical theory and effects.

 


	17. Chantry Cooking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daily life in Thedas before the team sets out to the Hinterlands to close some rifts!
> 
> This is mostly a Solas POV; so grumpy mage ahead.
> 
> Varric attempts to do some team building.
> 
> Has anyone seen Teiran?
> 
> O.O

“Solas.” Cassandra shook the elf’s shoulder vigorously.

Coming out of his deep slumber, the lines of Solas’ frown deepened. He put a hand to his forehead, and then slowly, painstakingly, ran his hand over his face. He sighed heavily.

Recognizing her Nevarran accented voice, he spoke with determined evenness and without opening his eyes, “Yes, Seeker Pentaghast?”

“If you are expecting your meals to be delivered to you every night, you are mistaken.” Cassandra explained, stepping away from Solas’ bed and towards her own.

Solas’ dangerous silence would have given anyone else pause.

Seeker Pentaghast continued fearlessly, “We should discuss a training schedule for the Herald, starting immediately.” Placing her damp towel on the peg next to the washbasin, Cassandra pulled her single, wet braid around the top of her head. She had donned her freshly laundered, garnet tunic and black trousers; her armor lay in the corner by her bed, recently cleaned and gleaming with polish.

“The Herald recovered. Just as you predicted.” Picking up her sword, she belted it around her waist, unwilling to leave without it even inside the village.

Breathing in and out through his nose, Solas massaged his temples and transformed his expression into neutrality. “I have no such expectations about my meals. Master Tethras’ actions are by his own volition. In any case, what exactly do you believe I, an apostate, can teach her?”

“She needs to be in better control of the Mark. And you seem to be best suited to teach her.” Cassandra pulled on boots that were considerably lighter than her heavily armored ones.

“Ah, I will see what can be done. Am I to assume you will also be _training_ her as it were?” Solas replied, eyes still closed.

Making her way to the door of the cabin, Cassandra glanced over at the reclining elf, “Yes, we cannot allow the Herald to die simply because she tires so easily. We will be left without any way to close the Breach.”

“Of course.” Solas replied mildly, sitting up slowly. He was still wearing his ever-knit wool beige and green cotton outfit with foot-wraps on his bare feet.

Reaching out for his pendant, Solas replaced it around his neck. The wolf-jawbone fell heavily against his chest; his bowed head and slumped shoulders betraying his fatigue.

Cassandra eyed him speculatively, “Solas . . . I do want to thank you for your help. It is appreciated.”

Finally, Solas opened his eyes and looked at Cassandra. She stared levelly back at him, unaffected gratitude in her dark eyes.

Solas smiled, only half his lips curving upwards, “I am happy to offer whatever aid I can. It is the least I could do under the circumstances.” He got to his feet.

Cassandra and Solas exited the cabin; the Seeker leading the way to the large cooking fire outside the Chantry. The pair traveled in silence with the crunch of snow under Cassandra’s boots the only sound of their passing.

In the silence, Solas’ mind wandered back through his trip to the Fade. Ever since the breach in the Veil, he had been spending more time in the Fade than he had since his uthenera. Guilt pulled at the back of his exhausted mind. Each day brought another tear in the Veil. And each night Solas guarded the tears, attempting to herd spirits away from the temptation.

However, the task was becoming more overwhelming and his once nightly explorations had turned into a life-or-death battle that he knew, despite his efforts, resulted in the lost of spirits to this unforgiving world. Not to mention the lives lost here in Thedas when demons attacked. Solas massaged his temples, trying to physically assuage some of the guilt of his plight. It weighed heavier than the mental exhaustion of the task itself.

Cassandra paused. Solas was roused from his brooding, observing that they now stood in front of the Chantry’s double doors, facing westward towards the mabari statues.

Solas’ astute gaze dissected the scene. A crowd forming a thick line spilled all the way around the tavern, dispersing at a large cauldron hanging above the fire.

The fifty or so inhabitants varied in type: a rag-tag group of soldiers, scouts, priests, refugees and servants, all gathered around in clumps of their own kind. A section of soldiers, their metal gleaming with a crisp Inquisition symbol scattered amongst them; or a conglomerate of travel-worn faces streaked with dirt hardened into sweat streaks. All of Haven waited.

“Cooperation will dissolve when the roads become safe to travel once more.” Solas concluded.

Cassandra glanced at him, impressed by his accurate assessment of the situation. She nodded once in agreement, “The Chantry’s supply lines have been delayed. The Breach and the fighting between the apostates and Templars disrupted not only food and supplies from Val Royeaux, but it is unsafe to venture far from Haven. And Haven’s Templars have either joined the fighting or have followed their captain into service for the Inquisition.”

Solas chuckled lightly, “The charming, once-Templar, Commander Cullen? I am not surprised that most would find him a pleasing alternative in this time of turmoil.” Solas caught Cassandra’s cat-like smile out of the corner of his eye.

“Apparently, the captain is a fan of Cullen’s.” Cassandra refocused on the crowd with a tilt of her chin, “Lady Montilyet negotiated this; our soldiers and scouts provide the food and the priests cook and distribute it. There are few priests or villagers able to defend themselves against apostates.”

Solas inclined his head, “Or against Templars, of course.”

Cassandra nodded curtly before restarting their path towards the haphazard crowd with Solas keeping perfectly in step. The two made their way to the rear of the line, earning some side-glances and silences from those they passed.

When Varric’s booming voice hit them, the Seeker and the Apostate fell into defensive stances.

Varric was smiling hugely with his fists resting casually on his waist, “Seeker! Chuckles! Over here.”

Cullen and Leliana, both visibly uneasy at the sudden attention, flanked the dwarf. Cullen was working on a proper blush while Leliana seemed to sink into herself, her gaze murderous.

Cassandra and Solas relaxed their defenses and joined the awkward trio.

“Now, isn’t this nice? All the Inquisition higher-ups sharing a meal together. Bonding before we set out to save the world.” Varric glanced around at his companions, none looking overly pleased with the prospect.

“Well, almost all of us. Ruffles came and went already. I must say I’m impressed.  Convincing the Chantry to work with the heretical Inquisition is no small feat.” Varric continued, undeterred by their silence.

“But I suppose the Inquisition only takes the best, right Seeker?” Varric baited Cassandra, knowing she would engage and hoping the others would relax.

“Of course. With a few exceptions.” Cassandra retaliated, crossing her arms.

Varric smiled when he noticed amusement touch the faces of those around him. He continued in his endeavor, “You wound me Seeker. And here I thought you dragged me all the way here because you wanted my company.” Varric answered his own question before Cassandra could continue past rolling her eyes, “I know, I know, the Divine asked you to drag me here.”

Varric glanced around him at the potential eavesdroppers: a group of priests behind them and some Inquisition soldiers in front of them. He would have to press the Seeker for more information later, he was very curious why the Seeker had felt the need to drag him all the way to tell the Divine in person all he had relayed to her about the Champion. _“It’s not like I didn’t write a whole book about it either.”_ Varric thought to himself, shelving the conversation for another day.

“So now we’re just waiting for our Herald. Someone did tell Loner to meet here at sunset right?” Varric asked, looking up into each face.

Solas and Leliana’s expression remained impassive, but he could almost see the cogs turning behind Cullen and Cassandra’s perplexed frowns.

“She was informed.” Cassandra’s gaze flicked to Leliana, the tension in her voice sharpening her puzzlement.

Leliana nodded almost imperceptibly, her sharp eyes scanned the line of bodies.

Cullen began to speak, but Leliana cut him off, “No. Quietly. Just in case.” Her eyes zeroed in on her target. She ghosted over to a gathering of her scouts two groups behind them. With a few exchanged breaths, the group had left the line, silently and inconspicuously branching in different directions. Leliana returned to the exact spot she had left, enhancing the illusion that she had not moved at all.

“Maybe she took my advice and ran for it.” Varric, rubbing his stubbled chin, muttered softly so that only they would hear.

“You. Did. What?” Cassandra challenged.

“Well, what did you expect Seeker? You know what happens to heroes and the Breach is going to need more than just a hero. Could you really blame her if she did?” Varric attempted to smooth the situation; he had misjudged how strongly Cassandra would react.

“She is the sole person in Thedas able to close the Breach. It would be selfish of her to do so.” Solas whispered; his tone remained casual, as if the conversation were purely hypothetical. While in the Fade, Solas had felt the flare of the Anchor ripple on the Veil. The flare from the mark had led him to discover a thread of the Veil that linked the two permanently.

He mentally braced himself for the chaos that would fill him when cast his awareness for the Veil. The gaping holes and weakness of his creation wounded his pride. Solas took a deep breath through his nose and focused on Haven. His proximity to the sealed Breach was some comfort or at the very least fostered hope for further repair.

For only a moment, Solas allowed his mind to mourn over his lost power and the resulting delay; now he would have to be content with repairing the Veil until he could find the Orb. Something to stem the loss of life . . . “ _Focus.”_ Solas reproached.

He located the thread that connected the Anchor with ease. Solas’ eyes flicked in its direction, _“Still in Haven then.”_

When the line of people rounded the tavern, a wiry scout appeared beside Leliana and handed her a key while whispering in her ear.

Cullen, Varric, Cassandra and Solas waited with varying degrees of patience: Solas at one extreme and Cassandra at the other. Cassandra fretted, worrying that her trust in the Herald was misplaced.

Leliana nodded, a hint of annoyance in her small smile, then she handed the key back, “Very good. Return it.”

The scout vanished. Leliana leaned in towards her companions, explaining in a low voice, “It seems our Herald is alive as well as still in Haven. My scouts have secured the Inquisition’s messages; apparently she was reading them when she fell asleep. There is nothing more to worry about.”

Varric laughed heartily, glancing at Cassandra’s huffy expression, “It has been a long couple of days Seeker.”

Cullen frowned, “My guard should still be posted at your window, Leliana. In case of another attempt . . .”

“Recruit Dehnert is.” Leliana supplied.

They followed the movement of the line and approached their turn at the cauldron.


End file.
